


Occultatus Aperta

by NotEvenNightshade



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Injured Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) Whump, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith/Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenNightshade/pseuds/NotEvenNightshade
Summary: April 9th, 2019.The city of Altea is dealing with a recent epidemic of widespread deaths, all following an intricate pattern, once a week.The thing is, they’re all being labelled as suicides.The detectives at Altea Inc. are working as hard as they can to try as find some sort of anomaly within the deaths, something that’ll prove that the deaths weren’t suicides- they were something else.Then, tragedy occurs. Lance McClain, a detective in Altea, is the newest suicide victim.The rest of the detectives know this can’t be true.Keith, searching for some sort of closure,  stumbles across something that changes the game forever. The answer behind who was responsible for the deaths lies within their own precinct, within one of their own detectives in the very same unit Keith and Lance worked in, hiding in plain sight.And, when he wakes up the next day, he realises it’s no longer present day, but April 3rd. 5 days before Lance died.5 days. 5 detectives.Keith has one last chance to make things right and save Lance’s life.And everyone, is a suspect.





	1. Begin

It had been 3 weeks, but Keith still wasn’t sleeping.

The shared studio apartment he and his brother Shiro shared made for a cosy at best-suffocating at worst- situation. And, right now, with the gentle snores heard from the next room over- little light and otherwise blistering silence, it was safe to say Keith felt suffocated.

He didn’t understand how people could just...sleep, in times like these. 

Nothing could be solved- and even if it _ could be _ , nothing was going to mean anything in the end, nothing was going to _ bring him back _\- so really Keith outta get used to this weighed down feeling and try to move on with his life. 

But he couldn’t.

Glancing over to his desk, dimly lit by the half-drawn curtains over the window allowing slithers of night light into his room, he saw his frantic notes, desperate to make anything a lead, a new find- an answer.

And he still saw nothing. 

The truth- the morbidly disgusting, all-consuming horror that he desperately tried not to believe- was that there _ was no answer. _ There was no answer, no killer, not even a lead. No suspect, no hunch, nothing that would make anyone at Altea Agency suspicious of someone. 

And yet people were dying each week, in the same way, almost sticking to a routine. 

And perhaps it was arrogance to blindly accept that Keith and the rest of the detectives working at Altea were in fact _ not _ part of the “general public” and therefore immune to any and all attempts this epidemic made- surely the killer wouldn’t get to _ him _, right? They were the detectives of Altea- one of the biggest and most powerful cities on the planet. They were fearless, strong, invincible.

Until of course, that invincibility waved its hand goodbye and left, leaving each detective grief-stuck and horrified.

Lance McClain, an up-and-coming detective, part of the “Paladin” Squad- was the latest victim.

It was April 9th, an average day- slightly too warm for April, maybe, but aside from that- average. He left to get some case files from home- Keith distinctly remembered telling him not to be late or there would be serious consequences- and Lance had _ laughed _, he had laughed that stupid gentle laugh that made any tense energy disappear, replaced with warmth and care and the overwhelming feeling of being safe. Lance had laughed and then remarked that he’d “only been gone 30 minutes.”

8 hours later, Lance’s body was found, laid as if sleeping, empty pill bottle opened and in his hand.

Labelled a suicide. 

Just as routine. 

The only difference here compared to all the other victims was that the detectives could actually argue that is was a murder- the evidence could suggest that it seemed as though Lance had quite clearly put up a tremendous fight, his knuckles bruised and cut, elbows and knees an angry red. Of course, this was almost immediately shot down by the doctors holding the largest playing card, insisting that Lance had somehow bruised himself, tore at his own hands and then, after these attempts failed, followed in the footsteps of the victims prior to his own death. In fact, one of the doctors, curling his lip, had remarked that it _ would _ make sense that his suicide would be exactly like the others, considering he was working on the case and knew the details of how the earlier suicides had taken place.

Keith, mirroring the rest of the detectives, shouted their injustices and pleaded that this couldn’t possibly be true- that Lance couldn’t have done this- all to no avail. 

It made no sense.

And so here he was, accepting that sleep would once again not be joining him, rising out of bed and throwing whatever clothes he could find on before grabbing keys and a coat and making his way outside to the hallway.

On his way out, he briefly looked at Shiro, who was sleeping, surrounded by various different moving boxes stacked high. A twinge of sympathy passed through him- this was the third apartment in a row that didn’t work out, and Shiro and Adam were _ so excited _ to move in together. Apparently the lady- though at first seemingly incredibly welcoming and friendly- (“She’s Japenese like me, Keith! This is the one, I’m sure of it!”)- was under the impression that Adam and Shiro were _ best bro’s _, and not, you know, engaged. And thus, once the big secret was revealed (they only had one bedroom) she huffily recommended they find somewhere else, quickly, and immediately.

He kept walking, until he reached the door and quietly, so as not to wake his brother, shut the door behind him, lept onto his bike, and began to drive.

After about 20 minutes of driving in the freezing cold and rain, he realised all this dramatic trip was doing to him was wasting gas money and time that could have been spent sleeping. As a last-ditch effort before he retreated back home, accepting defeat, he found himself at lance’s apartment, not 100% aware of what he was doing or rather, why. Slipping in the extra pair of keys Lance had given him a few months prior ( this was, of course, as a result of the sheer amount of times Keith complained about his eyes burning at accidentally walking in on Adam and Shiro) he closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and opened the door.

For a little while, Keith just stood, eyes drinking in the overwhelming feeling of life and _ living. _The floor was clean, the sofa still crinkled from where he had probably slept on it while watching a movie. The remote was scattered next to random files and other objects over the coffee table, and he walked, gentle footsteps contradicting a face so overcome with emotion. 

He was walking in a dead man’s apartment.

His friend.

Shock and childhood trauma had numbed his emotions, made his immediate reaction to grief or terror or sadness muted, only to be let out in private, when it was safe- when he was certain no more pain would follow. Keith could feel his mind beginning to do this once more as he walked around the apartment, looking at his friends belongings, mind overwhelmed with grief but body still walking, eventually finding itself in the heart of Lance's bedroom- inspecting, confirming.

He was gone.

He looked one last time around Lances room, for something- _ anything _\- when he noticed an incredibly worn out book followed by a pinboard that was not yet hung up, lying next to it.

It stood out to Keith, as Lance's stationery was always incredibly clean, incredibly beautiful work. His files were _ always _ the neatest, and his notes were colour coded. 

This book was falling apart, had loose papers everywhere, and it was very, _ very _old.

He walked over to it and opened it.

Scrawls of Spanish that Keith couldn’t read mixed in with the occasional English word exploded onto the pages. They were lined with pictures of random things- arms- knives, paracetamol bottles. 

Flipping the pages more he realised quite quickly that Lances notes were about the suicides. 

He frowned. That wasn’t his case. 

It wasn’t anyone’s, really.

Coran had given it to Allura and Shiro technically, but Adam began getting invested as he spent so much time around Shiro, as did Keith himself after Shiro would discuss leads or breaks in the case. 

Soon enough, almost the entire squad was trying to find details here and there (much to the unamusement of Coran). 

No one had worked the case like this, though.

Looking over at the pinboard, he noticed that these notes were shorter. They were concise, but the writing was messier. 

A break in the case.

The thing that his eyes were drawn to, however, was the card in the middle of the pinboard, with all the strings connecting the other notes across the board to it. It was almost circled with different points cascading their way across the board, and the words “Owner=Killer !!!” Were scrawled across in black. 

Huh.

He looked over at the card, heart beating fast, then took it from its holding place. 

It was a detectives identification card. Everyone at the precinct had one, and depending on which particular unit you belonged to and your individual officer number they had various different numbers. 

So, Keith belonged to the 0009th precinct, in the 06th unit, and his individual number was 04- so his ID card read “0009604”.

The card that Lance had labelled as “the killer” read “0009609”. 

That didn’t make sense.

He read it again, slowly.

0 0 0 9 6 0 9

But that wasn’t a real number!

There were 8 people in the Paladin Unit. Coran, the Captain, Allura the Sargent, and then Shiro, Adam, Keith, Lance, Hunk and Pidge. 

There was no “09”. No 9th member of the unit.

He blinked again, and after running through various reasons through his head and coming up with nothing, he realised he’d be able to think clearer tomorrow. 

As he was about to go, however, he quietly took the card and the book, but left the pinboard, as it was too big to carry.

Whatever was going on, maybe he could get Shiro or Allura to have a look at it. Maybe this is what they needed to find the guy who did this- who took Lance from them.

Keith huffed out a breath. This is what his life had become- stealing from his dead friends apartment. 

He let out a breath. He was suddenly overcome with overwhelming tiredness. 

He wanted to go home.

He looked down onto the ground as he shuffled out of the house, trying not to see details of Lance’s life splashed around the area. As he reached for his keys he noted they were sticky and looked over into the puddle they had unknowingly been placed into to see a half-open empty soda bottle laid out, its contents spilled freely across the coffee table. Somehow this is what did it for Keith, who felt tears prick at his eyes and a white-hot lump began to form in his throat. He hastily shut the door behind him and locked it before rushing down the stairs of the apartment complex and once again climbing on his bike. 

It was raining heavier now, but he turned on the engine and sloppily began to drive home. There was very little traffic due to the ungodly hour he was driving in, and Keith took this as an opportunity to drive even faster. 

He could barely see anything, could barely even hear anything but the loud crashing of the rain which was drenching him and his bike. Keith didn’t care.

He drove and drove and drove until he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t feel. Keith didn’t want to feel anything anymore. He was pathetic, what did he think doing this would do? Even if they _ did _ find something to tie someone to the suicides, that wouldn’t bring his friend back, would it?

And that’s on the assumption that Lance's intel is all 100% fact, and not, in fact, random notes and scribblings a detective made in his spare time. 

The truth is, Keith was useless, unsure of what to do and how to do it and desperate for some sort of answers that were obviously not going to come so he should just grow _up _and deal-

And suddenly, he was flying, flying through the air, unable to even process the car hitting him or the pain that followed until he was on the gravel, mind screaming in pain, sounds growing more and more distant. .His arm burned, his face felt hot, he couldn't move Though his eyesight was fuzzy, he was distantly aware of a figure stepping out of the car and growing closer to him. There were sounds- voices that he couldn’t quite understand, didn’t _ want _ to understand. 

In a weird, almost masochistic way, one of which he would later pretend as if wasn’t real and just an aftershock thought, he almost felt happy- he asked for numbness, and it had granted his request

As he closed his eyes he felt himself smile somehow. He was at peace. 

Then nothing but a never-ending cataclysm of darkness. No more pain.

* * *

The first thing that confused Keith was his alarm going off. 

He had been struggling to sleep so much that it was rare for him to be asleep when it went off, and so he had opted for turning it off completely,

Yawning slightly he reached forward to shut it off, dismissing it as a faulty system, or his sleep-deprived brain forgetting and accidentally putting it back on, part of muscle memory. 

He reached his arm over to the alarm clock- but it didn’t move.

Huh.

He reached again.

Nothing.

Blinking away the sleep in his eyes, he glanced down and was met with sheets that were white and green. Glancing around the room, confusion finally left when he realised he was _ not _ in fact, safe and sound in his room, but in what appeared to be a hospital room.

He was just about to try his luck calling for someone to explain whatever the hell happened when the door flew open, and with it, a very frazzled Shiro and apologetic-looking Adam. “I’m sorry,” Adam began. “I tried to calm him down, but-”

“What. were. you. _ thinking! _ ” Shiro screeched. “You- You!” He was scathing, marching over to Keith’s bed with what Keith would like to think was an unnecessary pace, before continuing. “It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt! A miracle! Why were you- What were you- _ Why _ did you think it was a _ remotely _ good idea to go out on a joyride at 2 in the morning?”

Keith blinked. “Uh-”

“Are you on drugs?” Shiro continued. “Are you? Are you high? Oh my god, are you _ still _ high now?”

“He’s not on drugs, Shiro.” This was Adam, who had silently closed the door Shiro had apparently attempted to blast off and had taken to hovering behind him quietly. He briefly shared a look with Keith. “You’re not, right?”

“I’m not on drugs!” Keith said exasperatingly. “Not then and not now!”

For whatever reason, this seemed to calm Shiro, who began nodding silently, then muttered, “that’s good” before sinking back into the chair next to him.

Thinking that now was as good a time as any, Keith hesitatingly began: “Uh.” He began, “I think I’m having trouble figuring out what exactly happened?” He said. “So- what...what_ did _happen?”

Shiro stared at him blankly. “You don’t remember anything?”

Keith shook his head, to which Adam and Shiro shared a brief look, before turning back to Keith. Shiro sat forward a little, anger fizzling out to be replaced by the concern in his eyes. “You okay, kiddo? Seriously.”

And shit, whatever he _ did _ do, it must have been really bad, because Shiro hadn’t looked at him like _ that _ since back in his angsty teenage years when he would steal Shiro’s bike or disappear for 3 days at a time, or god-knows-what. He was in a bad place- his father had just died and no one wanted to take him in, foster care with his “new family” wasn’t working out and the kid who was apparently supposed to be his brother couldn’t look at him for more than 3 seconds without asking him if he was okay.

Shiro thought something big had happened.

And judging by the way he was staring at him, eyes getting bigger and sadder as the seconds continued, Keith realised he ought to reply. “I’m fine, Shiro.” This did nothing to quell the concern in his brother’s eyes. He tried again. “I’m honestly, genuinely fine. I don’t know what’s happened. All I really remember is driving home from Lance’s apartment.”

They looked at each other again, this time Adam frowning. “Lance never said anything about you being at his that night.” 

Keith stared in utter confusion at Adam. “What do you mean?”

“Why would Lance not tell us?”

Shiro tensed his jaw. “Did he...Did Lance do anything to you whilst you were with him, Keith?”

Something wasn’t making sense. Keith was still dreaming. Lance was _ gone _, why were they joking about him like this? What sick prank did they think they were pulling? “Wh- What are you guys even- How could he have- I don’t understand-”

He was interrupted by the door opening again, this time with more figures spilling through. First appeared Hunk looking relieved, next Pidge, looking concerned. Slowly, Allura and even Captain Coran shuffled in, both looking as if they were still in the middle of some sort of conversation. However, none of the detectives who had just walked into the room was responsible for the clear voice that rung out loud and clear, shrill but instantly recognisable. 

The man pushed his way through the other detectives before standing still, locking eyes with Keith. Lance McClain stood, chest heaving, eyes were blown wide, and very much alive. “Keith!” he cried. “I was so worried!”

* * *

Maybe Keith _ was _ on drugs. 

It would make sense as to how a man that had supposedly taken his own life 3 days ago was standing in front of a hospital room surrounded by people who didn’t seem to think it was weird that a dead man was walking around- as if he was alive. 

Shit, _ did _ Keith do drugs?

He briefly registered Lance worriedly staring at him, coupled with Shiro and Adam glaring at Lance (instead of freaking the fuck out that a dead man was somehow alive and well). He looked over to the others, who had shuffled over into the remaining unoccupied corner all watching him continue to lay unresponsive to Lance. 

Yeah. He should probably do that. 

“Uh…” He swallowed. “Lance. It’s uh. It’s good to see you..?"

“Good to _ see _ me?” Lance looked confused. “Why do you sound so weird?”

Keith blinked. “I’m in the hospital”, he replied dumbly.

Lance didn’t look convinced but dropped it.

The rest of the session went as awkward as the beginning. Everyone attempted to make more conversation, but Keith was still staring at Lance, questioning whether or not he had truly lost his mind.

He was discharged pretty quickly, as he only suffered a broken arm and a mild concussion. Shiro drove him back to their joint apartment, talking about nothing in particular, probably trying to make conversation. 

“We found a new landlord, she’s Japanese. I think this may be it, Keith, after all, you know what they say- third times the charm.” He began, to which Keith would hum and nod, mind still unable to piece what had happened at the hospital back together. Clearly, as a result of him not listening, Shiro would then try to mooch onto a different topic, starting off once more:

“Pidge told me she was going to take some time off soon- she’s working on another one of her projects”

Again, Keith would nod and would wait until he could just go home and sleep. 

When he finally got home, Shiro had to silently help Keith into the apartment. His phone had apparently not survived the crash, and Keith mourned the loss of both his phone and his wallet (even though somehow the contents inside survived? Go figure) after he eventually went and bought one. The point, dear reader, was that Keith had yet to see the time-hell, he only knew it was Wednesday after Shiro had told him so. Which meant he must have been unconscious for no more than a day or so. 

Now he was back in his room, he looked over at the time- 11:37pm- and decided he might as well check any emails or messages he may have gotten whilst in hospital (that’s right, he lived an exhilarating life). Yawning slightly, he opened his laptop, brushing dust that had gathered on it whilst he had been away. Once opened, he began to type in his password- then stopped.

He looked at the date the screen showed him. 

April 3rd, 2019.

Keith started, unblinking. That couldn’t be right. It was April 30th. He had gone over to Lance’s house April 30th- he _ remembered _ the days leading up to it, including April 9th. It had already happened.

He logged on and immediately went to check the computer wasn’t malfunctioning but all seemed fine. Shaking his head slightly, he typed into google “Date” and immediately, answers came back.

April 3rd, 2019.

What the hell?

He checked his phone, his calendar, he shut his phone off and restarted it, he grabbed his calendar diary off of his desk, anything that had any sort of date.

April 3rd, 2019.

He stood up from his chair violently, accidentally knocking it over in the process. The noise was loud enough to alert Shiro, who was neck-deep in Protective Brother(™) mode, who then yelled; “What happened!” Before materialising into his room.

Shiro saw the chair before he saw Keith, standing with eyes wild and confused, a good arm covering his mouth. “Keith?” he said. “Keith. You okay?”

Keith was still staring at the computer. “What’s the date.”

Shiro blinked. “What are you-”

“Shiro _ what is the date.” _

Shiro opened his mouth and then closed it. Then: “Wednesday, you know tha-”

“The date, Shiro! What’s the fucking date!” 

The older man hesitated for a moment, then replied, “April 3rd”.

And somehow this meant something to Keith, who let out a sharp breath and then wobbled for second before regaining balance. Keith thought back to the events earlier- Shiro and Adam finding an apartment- Shiro saying “3rd times the charm”- the storm that was scheduled tomorrow even though just a few weeks ago there had been another and in April these were rare- Pidge getting earrings in a few days -it made sense.

Somehow, the craziness made sense. Maybe his whole thing was a weird drug trip, or a fever dream, but either way, one thing was certain to him.

He was in the past. 

* * *

After Keith convinced Shiro was _ fine _ and everything was _ fine _and he was just overreacting, he was left alone to figure out what this all meant.

_ Somehow _, he had already lived through this day, and the next, up to April 30th. And it wasn’t like he was in some weird alternate dimension, all the events that had gone on were still currently going on. 

Apart from the accident, it was like he was really back in the past, exactly.

Which, he realised, meant that the events of the next week were still going to happen. Logically speaking, events that had happened today (aside from his hospital trip) were exactly the same- the news, the weather, Shiro’s apartment hunting- it was all the same, he sat down with himself, looking up into the ceiling on his bed, restless and very much awake.

Maybe the doctors were right. 

The only people who could have possibly known about Lance- about the killings- were his team. Something of which he didn’t want to think about- _ couldn’t _ think about at the time, because the news of his best friend dying and his other best friend being responsible for it would be too much. But- what if it was true. The rest of the suspects- _ suspects, was that what he was calling them now?- _ had been doing something with someone, their names cleared. 

Then there was the pinboard he saw in Lances room- the clear messages, frantic but full of information, leading up to the card that Keith had quietly stashed away in his ruined wallet. Taking it out now, he looked over the numbers once more and compared it to his own. Whilst his number card was still the same- the number of precinct- “9th”, followed by the particular unit he was a part of, the “6th” and then his officer number- the fourth in his unit.

0009604

The other card still read ending with “09”- it wasn’t a trick of the light, or his head messing him up.

The only way someone could make another card is if a current detective showed proof of their old card, whether it’s through documents, pictures, or other forms of identity. Then it goes through processing, and the entire squad is informed through the commissioner or the squad's captain that a new card has been registered. 

They do this to prevent potential criminals taking the files, and to help make sure no one loses a file. All files accessed, all weapons, data, it all has to be used via the card, and the identity of the cardholder is registered within the system. They’re personalised, so no one outside of the “Paladin” unit would have the “06” on the card number. 

So that meant one of the detectives within the unit had to file for a missing card.

And according to Lance, the card owner was responsible for the weapons disappearing within the precinct, the cameras malfunctioning whenever a new victim is found; the evidence being tampered with. 

And, of course, the killings. 

Which could only mean one thing. 

One of his team- Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Hunk, and Adam- was responsible for Lance’s murder.

One of them killed Lance McClain. 

He held his breath. _ Is he really going to do this? _

If he did, everything would be different, forever. Someone in his life...would be a_ convicted serial killer._

But if he didn’t- everything would be the same.

Lance would still die.

Keith couldn’t let that happen.

It was April 3rd. Lance died on April 9th. 

Which meant starting tomorrow, he would have 5 days to figure out who killed Lance McClain, and prevent it from happening again.

5 days. 5 suspects.

He let out a breath.

Let’s do this.


	2. Belittle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith questions his first suspect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this bad boy has been just *incredible*, I really don't know what to say. It's honestly blown me away- we have a total of I think 35 comments as of now on the first chapter alone? That's insane. Thank you so so so much for them, and for all the support I've received, I love you all so much
> 
> Without further ado, here's the 2nd chapter, enjoy :D

**April 4th. 5 Days Left.**

Keith woke up immediately at the first buzz of his alarm clock.

_Finally._

Blindly getting ready, he grabbed all the essentials he would need for the day ahead- notebook, phone, pens, and the key card he had found at Lance’s house. Somehow the wallet had survived the crash, but the notebook that he had taken from Lance’s apartment had disappeared. Either way, he had taken a few photos of a couple pages, so at least he didn’t lose everything.

He met up with Shiro who was sitting in the kitchen and still wasn’t dressed for work, and saw his brother eye him suspiciously as Shiro sipped his coffee. “Keith,” he began, “you know Sargent Coran isn’t gonna let you work for at least a couple weeks with what happened last night… right..?”

Ah, but Keith was expecting this.

The night before, after he realised what the task ahead of him, he devised a plan allowing him to talk to the detectives in his precinct without being too suspicious.

This is where his plan starts. This is how he saves Lance.

He took a deep breath. “I know, Shiro,” he began, “but being at home is just...so depressing.” he looked down, “Even if I could just say hi to everyone, thank them for their support yesterday, and go home in a couple hours…I think that would really help me….”He put a hurt expression on his face and waited.

Shiro mulled it over, clearly wondering if Keith had any ulterior motives (read: he did). But Keith knew Shiro, he knew Shiro more than Shiro knew Shiro.

Then: “Fine buddy. But you’re gonna take it slow and make sure you tell me if you’re feeling bad or something, alright?”

Keith nodded absentmindedly, mind already buzzing with far more important tasks then speaking to his brother, before taking a loose croissant from the pack on the counter with his good arm and rushing out of the door. “Thanks man, I’ll meet you there!”

He didn’t even get to hear Shiro’s clearly confused reply as he shut the door behind him and just managed to get the bus (his motorbike was confiscated by a very angry Shiro and another apologetic looking Adam, who currently had it stored over at his place so Keith couldn’t sneakily use it whilst Shiro was out.)

Honestly though, he wasn’t sure he cared. Keith was jittery, already thinking about the day ahead of him. This way he didn’t have to think about the complexities of driving, even though it was never all that difficult for him- but this way he could focus on the only thing that matters.

Solving the case.

Though right now he was trying to think about it as little as possible, there was a chance that his brother- as a result of also being in the paladin unit- was responsible for the deaths. That being said, logically speaking, it was least likely to be his brother because Keith was constantly with him.

Besides, Keith knew him.

He knew Shiro.

Anyway. Back on task Kogane.

After he had realised that the card left at Lance's apartment belonged to one of the detectives at the unit, he had rummaged around for some sort of notebook for him to begin working the case, and he wrote down the suspects.

  * Hunk
  * Adam
  * Allura
  * Pidge
  * Shiro
  * Coran

Now, as a preface; Allura and Coran were the less likely of candidates- the card Keith had found in Lances apartment was a detectives-authorisation identification card-Allura being the Sargent had her own card that gave her more access than a measly detectives card, and the same went for her higher-ranking officer Coran. What was the point in using a card that gave you less access to things around the precinct?

With so little time afforded to him, he decided to leave them out for now.

The card was being used to access certain things, certain records and information, and Keith couldn’t find out what information-that was- until he submitted the card to Coran, or at least to Allura.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. Keith was well aware, as he lay facing his wall, once again unable to sleep, that he could not tell anyone. The evidence so clearly suggested one of his own fellow detectives were behind the act, which meant that he couldn’t exactly announce he was onto them.

And, after a while of mulling it over, he didn’t want to talk to Lance. At all.

It was difficult to explain.

Lance made him lose his focus, made him weak and giddy. He was always so full of life that the idea that Keith as spending the next few days (hopefully less) investigating and stopping whatever maniac was planning on murdering someone that should be invincible was such a weird, dark concept that Keith didn’t want to face.

It was easier, and therefore more efficient, if Keith thought of this case as one that didn’t involve his friends, his brother, and Lance.

Besides, what if he slipped up and told Lance the truth?

No, better to focus on what needed to be done.

He wanted to eliminate the biggest suspect, which to him, was Hunk.

As the best friend of the soon-to-be victim, he had the most ties and most relations. And if being a detective meant anything to him, then he would have to look at this as a case. No emotions could be involved.

Hunk...what was there about Hunk..?

He took out his phone and found the pictures where Lance had written down pages of all the detectives’ card numbers and all the times they had checked something out in the past month.

How Lance had found that information was beyond Keith, but he continued.

According to Lance, almost all the suspects had checked something out of the unit within a few days of each killing. For Hunk (who’s number was 00096007) he had checked out 3 things 2 days before the 4th killing- on the12th of February.

Now, why had he done that?

He racked his brain but couldn’t come up with an answer.

Could the killer be in front of him this whole time?

Yes...of course, it would be Hunk. That man was nice- too nice...too welcoming...it was always the nice ones, wasn’t it? Always the ones that you don’t expect, the ones closest to the victim, the ones who were supposedly gentle and kind.

He was a monster!

And, Keith thought, wildly writing things down on his own notepad. Hunk had been getting more and more secretive recently.

Yes, Hunk had been sneaking around. Whilst he wasn’t sure exactly when it had started, he knew it had been about 4 or so months, maybe? He definitely flaked on a couple of Christmas parties at the last minute, he remembered Pidge calling him multiple times angrily all to no response.

Okay. So let’s pretend we don’t know anything about Hunk- he said to himself, as he stared up at the ceiling at whatever ungodly hour it was- let’s work it like it’s a case.

Years ago, when Keith and Shiro first moved into the then-new apartment, the police academy they had been apart of was doing a fundraiser for the inhabitants, and, when Keith found the magnetic glass dry wipe whiteboard was one of the things listed, he didn’t hesitate before he bought it. With the help of Shiro, he mounted it on the wall in his bedroom and since then, he had been using it to work cases at home ever since.

And, the night before, Keith had gotten rid of the old scribbles and drawings, and gotten to work on the new case.

Hunk- he had written- was seemingly the friendliest of the detectives. Constantly playing “good cop”, he was the kind of guy people hoped would be working with- what with his easy charm, cool, sweet attitude, and cute humour. Hell, when Allura finally introduced her now finance Lotor (who was just her 2-month-old boyfriend at the time), he was the one who insisted they all go out for karaoke, and somehow they ended the night as best friends. According to Hunk, though Lotor’s currently on a work trip in England (he’s moving over for the wedding), they regularly talk and Lance, Hunk and him were all planning on going out as soon as he got back to the states.

But there was a darker side to Hunk, as well.

One that wasn’t really spoken about as much, one that came out at the darkest of moments, only to be never spoken about again. It was in those moments Keith realised Hunk was only ever choosing to be as easy-going as he was. He was deliberately painting himself to be a nice, good-hearted guy. But there were moments when he would snap, moments where he would lose his temper. The best example of that? Easy. Keith scribbled down the name and made a note to get the file the next day so he could look into it more.

The case of Cassidy Claire.

A fourteen-year-old girl living in upper-middle-class Jericho, New York- one of the best places to live. She was from a very good, very powerful family, but unlike the rest of the rich tyrants of New York, this family built their empire off of charities, helping the poor, and sponsoring disadvantaged kids.

So when Cassidy was murdered, Hunk was assigned the case- and, when Hunk found that it was not, in fact, the local street gang the world had immediately cast the blame upon, but the cousin of the family who was looking for more inheritance money out of the will, he cemented himself as one of the top detectives in the NYPD. That being said, the anger that Keith saw as he watched his college interrogate the cousin, richer and more powerful than he could ever be, was unimaginable.

Hunk was quiet, not yelling, not screaming- no. Hunk spoke eloquently and angrily, not once breaking eye contact with the murderer, as he began to interrogate him for what would be the last time.

Lance and Keith were there, watching from the other side of the glass, and Keith was even more put off by the fact that clearly Lance wasn’t expecting to see this side of Hunk, even though they had been friends for years- right from high school.

Yes. Keith confirmed in his mind, back in the present now.

It must be Hunk. 

* * *

  
He got into work almost an hour early, and there were only two other people here. Coran, who was on the phone with someone in his office, and Lance, who seemed incredibly tire, bags under his eyes and but still very much eager to work.

Keith attempted to walk straight to his desk without talking to him, but Lance had spotted his target and began zeroing in on him like a missile. And whilst usually, this would make Keith get butterflies and blush horrendously, today he felt his gut sink as Lance smiled and waved.

You don’t even know what’s going to happen to you.

“Hey man!” Lance began. “I didn’t think you were coming in today- how come Coran let you work?”

Keith looked at the ground. “I’m not working.” He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Just..wanted to come in anyway.”

“Oof. Big Jake Peralta vibes there.”

Keith stared. “What?”

“Ya know- how Jakes hurt but still insists on coming into work?” Lance waited for a reply, but when one was not given to him, he continued, “Brooklyn nine-nine? Andy Samberg???”

“W- I thought you said his name was Jake”

Lance pulled a face. “He- _Andy plays Jake_! From- ugh” Lance groaned, putting his hands on his face. “You need to come over and binge it with me. It’s awesome.”

Keith felt the uneasiness grow within him. “Uh. I don’t know. I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Doing what?” Lance cracked a grin. “You’re not even supposed to be here right now- you’re free!”

“I said I’m busy!” Keith winced. That wasn’t how he meant to say that at all. He looked up, an apology on his tongue- but the damage was already done. He saw the hurt flash across Lance’s face, and before he could clarify, Lance spoke up, tone softer.

“What’s with you, dude?”

His voice was gentle, his hurt was evident. But he was concerned, he could tell something was wrong.

Even when Keith was an ass to him, Lance still wanted to make sure he was okay.

“I’ve just got a headache. I’m sorry about yelling at you.” He sighed. “I don’t wanna be at home- I wanted to talk to Hunk, actually- but I don’t know where he is.”

“He’ll be here soon, buddy, but until then, maybe you and I could just sit in the break room and talk?” Lance placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder, but all it did was make the uneasiness inside Keith grow further. He shrugged it off, and turned around walking towards his desk, trying not to look at his face.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” He said. “Lemme know when Hunk gets here.”

And so Lance was left alone at the desks, early for work and alone.

* * *

Some time later, after checking to make sure an interrogators room was free, Keith sat at his desk, pretending to check his phone as he waited for an opening to talk to Hunk, who had arrived about 20 minutes after talking to Lance.

Hunk, who hadn’t seemed surprised, nodded at the request of a talk- Keith was sure Lance had texted his best friend informing him of Keith’s weird behaviour.

Even so, when the opportunity presented itself, he rose quickly and asked if Hunk could come over to one of the rooms with him.

He agreed and they walked together to one of the other rooms.

When they had sat down, Keith swallowed before saying: “I just wanted to preface this by saying that I’m recording everything that we’re saying during this conversation. Do you consent to this?”

Hunk raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting the seriousness in his tone. “Um. Yeah. Keith, what’s going—“

“It’s nothing serious. Honestly.” Replied Keith. “I was just hit with the crushing realisation I have literally nothing to do now that this—“ he raised his broken arm tucked away in its cast “is happening. I think if I do these it’ll show the captain I’m ready for work- real work.”

Hunk thought about it for a second, before nodding in understanding. “I get you, buddy. Alright, how can I help you, _police officer?_”

_Don’t joke. This is a serious interrogation. People's lives are at stake._

“I just wanna get it for the record- your name is Hunk Garret, your birthday is January 13th, and you’re 27 years old?”

Hunk nodded.

Keith took in a breath. Now for the main event.  
____

* * *

Some time later, maybe 10, 15 minutes, Keith had finally, ever so slowly crossed the subject of cases Hunk was working on.

“You’re aware of the recent epidemics of deaths in Altea recently?”

“Everyone is, yeah.”

“I’m gonna ask you...some questions-regarding it.” Christ. he was never good with words but this was bad, even for him.

Hunk blinked. “Okay. Sure.”

“Do you know who the most recent victim is?

Hunk thought for a moment. Then: “Erica Ferren, I think.”

_Knows the victim's full name._

“Where were you on the night of February 14th?”

At this, Hunk narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“What are you asking- what’s that got to do with _anything.”_

Keith was starting to lose his patience. “There was a murder on February 14th. I wanna know where you were.”

Hunk said nothing for a while. Then, finally:“Do... you think I somehow _know_ something about the death…?” Hunk said slowly- carefully.

“I’m just trying to see if you’ve seen something I haven’t.”

Hunk hummed. “Doesn’t seem like these questions are very random to me, Keith. What’s really going on?”

Keith’s heart sped. Hunk was on to him! The mad man- he was going to figure out that Keith knew his secret! “Nothing, honestly." He spluttered, "It’s- it’s just on my mind because of how much they’re in the news.” He thought wildly for some sort of an excuse- something- anything- “I uh. Came across an article about Erica Ferren. And...don’t tell Shiro this, but I think you’re a better detective then him- I wanted to see if you had any idea of what happened that night.”

Yes! A believable story.

Hunk seemed to agree with his thoughts as he took the bait. “Honestly, I think it’s pretty clear that all the deaths aren’t suicides. Detective or not, anyone with an IQ of over 20 could see it.”

Keith didn’t answer. Was Hunk about to admit something?

“But I don’t know what happened that night. I wasn’t there- I was with someone else.”

“Wha- with who?”

He cracked a smile. “I was with my girlfriend, man.”

Keith blinked. Did he miss something? He could have sworn Hunk wasn’t in a relationship. Fuck, he really needs to start paying attention to what people tell him. “Uh.”

Hunk could see his friend's clear confusion splattered across his face and laughed lightly. “Sorry I never said anything about it- we were just trynna adjust to life as a couple before introducing...everyone else.” He smiled. “Though I’m glad I finally told someone. Hiding it’s been harder than you can expect.”

“How long have you two been together?”

He thought for a moment, then said: “About a year and a month?”

A year and a …!

“Oh.”

_Wow, Keith, your way with words continues to astound._

Hunk didn’t seem to find his lack of response disheartening however, instead looking more amused at the whole situation. “Listen. I don’t know what’s been up with you but I know you won’t let your mind rest until you see some actual answers. I don’t have any pictures but I have a text conversation between me and Shay- here”

He turned his phone to Keith and Keith watched it.

Just a text between two people who were obviously in love.

“Lotor actually helped set us up- remember him?” Said hunk, a fond smile on his face. “It’s thanks to him that we’re together.”

“Where is he anyway?”

“London- Allura said he was working on something before their marriage ceremony next July. Said he had to finish a couple of things up.” Hunk pulled a face. “Either way. I think that’s all you wanted, right?”

Keith nodded, unsure of what to say. It seemed pretty obvious that it wasn’t Hunk, and also sort of obvious that Hunk had caught on to the fact that Keith wasn’t just asking him random questions.

Ah. Keith may be a brilliant detective, but a very, very, bad actor.

* * *

The ride home with Shiro was silent, Keith tapping his nails onto his cast. The rest of the day had been a blur, Hunk good-naturedly telling the rest of the unit about his girlfriend (that Lance already knew about, apparently), and ending with Shiro and Adam promising him a double date was inevitable ("I see it...." said Adam mysteriously, looking into the distance like some kind of war hero. "I see a double dinner date....." Shiro had mirrored this, acting as if he was having a vision even more ridiculous then Adam's as he sank to the floor and put his hand over his head. "A double dinner date at The Gladiator where they give free dessert if someone proposes there..." he threw his head back and exclaimed: "We'll _both_ propose and get _free cake_.")

Head buzzing, he was already thinking of who to ask next. A whole day was wasted, which meant a whole day less for Lance to get justice, but he couldn’t afford to lose himself with emotion.

Of course it wouldn’t be Hunk. He was Lance’s best friend, he was one of Keith’s closest friends, he would never hurt a fly. The very fact that Keith could think of his friend in such a dark way meant that Keith surely was an awful person, a horrible friend, but most importantly, a bad detective.

The problem was, whenever he had a hard time cracking a certain aspect in a casA part of him so desperately wanted to turn to Shiro and tell him what was going on. But that was far too risky. Shiro could get caught up in the mess, could get hurt! What if it was Adam, and now Shiro knew he wouldn’t be able to resist talking to his boyfriend about it? How would Shiro be able to face the possibility that his own boyfriend, the man that he loved, was a vicious killer?

Of course, the very real possibility that Shiro could be the killer was not discussed nor entertained.

There were still 4 days. He could do this.

And, he knew just where to start.

Pidge Gunderson. 


	3. Bemuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith questions Pidge and finds some suprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oH this took so much out of me. sorry it's late, but in my defence, this is like double the normal length of my usual chapters
> 
> Hello just bc this chapter ends in a slightly more dramatic way compared to last time I'm doing all the self-promo stuff now-  
-This is [my Ko-Fi page](https://ko-fi.com/klaxces) y'all should follow them for updates on this and other stuff in general lmfao i wanna interact with y'all :D  
\- Also, when you're done reading, please please please leave a comment telling me what you liked/disliked. What takes you guys minutes to read takes me and other people who write hours, days, and in some cases, like this fic for instance- months to write. I've been continuously writing this fic for almost 5 months and believe me, it's not done yet. So leaving a kudos, reblogging my Tumblr posts about this, but most importantly, leaving a comment- it means the world to me. 
> 
> oKAY NOW THAT THAT'S DONE, enjoy!

Day 2. 4 days left.

Keith sat in silence at his desk sipping what was maybe his fifth or his sixth coffee. It was cold and flavourless at this point but he drank it anyway.

His desk was messy but his notes clear. There was a big line through Hunks name on the list he had written down. Everyone else was still up there, on the page, staring back at him.

Pidge

Pidge Gunderson.

Honestly, not much was known about them. They went to work on time and left the moment the clock struck 5- they didn’t talk to any of the other detectives, but Keith had noticed them occasionally stealing glances at Shiro (a crush, maybe?)

He remembered when Lance and Pidge first met, Lance, asking what their pronouns were and Pidge scowling and walking away. Keith and he had silently decided that the neutral “they/them” would suffice until they said otherwise.

And they never did, hardly ever talking, only diligently getting on with their work.

And man oh man, did they work.

Keith doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone remotely as smart as Pidge Gunderson. All of the detectives were smart, that’s why they were Altea’s finest, after all. But Pidge blew it out of the water, often spending mere hours on a case that would have taken Shiro or even Allura weeks.

So. Anti-social behaviour then?

Keith scribbled that down as he sipped his coffee, thinking about more of what he knew about them and barely paying attention to the alarm clock next to him which read “2:32 am”.

He didn’t care.

Pidge, after Hunk; was probably the biggest suspect. It was probably the easiest detective to investigate on an emotional basis, on the basis that he knew almost nothing about them and though he thought of them fondly, he had the least compassion for them out of the rest.

One of the biggest giveaways about Pidge linking her to this was that they never had an alibi. They were full of secrets, barely spoke and were extremely smart, and never spoke about their personal life, seemingly not even having one.

Hunk had Shay, so who did Pidge have?

No-one realised Keith.

* * *

At work, Keith was still not allowed to be working, but somehow was there anyway, much to the bewilderment of Adam and Lance.

Like a hawk, Keith watched as his target entered the building at 8:47 am as per usual and crossed over to their desk.

“Pidge!” Keith said, walking over to their desk as they didn’t look up from their work. “Hey, Pidge!!” He repeated. Still nothing. Some of the other detectives were beginning to look at him, including Lance, who had been quietly filing some paperwork.

Keith pulled a face. He marched over to their desk and planted his arms onto it. “Aye PIDGE.”

“What?!”

Ah, as eloquent as ever.

Keith blinked, now realising the attention on him. It would, obviously, look insane if he just asked them some questions now, and draw way too much-unneeded attention. Instead, he had to think on his feet. He walked over to them and attempted a smile to which they blinked unresponsively back.

“Can you come help me with something in the back?”

They looked at him (finally). “Can’t you ask the others?”

“No. I can’t. So Ineedyounowokay.”

Grabbing their arm, he marched them over to the back of the room, not noticing Hunk continue to stare at him as they left the room.

When they entered the room, Pidge finally managed to wiggle their way out of Keith’s grasp, and stood, quite clearly irritated.

“What did you want, Keith?”

Right. Time to work.

“I wanted to ask some questions about the mass suicides case. I know-” he began when Pidge started to speak up again; “I know it isn’t your case- it’s Lance's and mine- but I just needed to ask some questions about it, for the case, I mean. I need- I need to ask you some questions.”

Pidge raised their eyebrows, but surprisingly nodded after a moment: “That’s fair. Let’s go somewhere a little more private, okay?”

* * *

“So.” he started. He looked down at his notes. “I’m going to start with some information about yourself. I’m gonna need you to be honest, and clarify when the information isn’t right, okay?”

This time, they gave a slight smirk. “I know how these cases start.”

“Just following protocol,” he mumbled, getting his book out of his bag and starting.

“So. Pidge Gunderson, 23, right?”

“Sure.”

There was something in that response, but Keith didn’t have time to overthink someone's answer to their name.

“How long have you been working at Altea”

“Since I moved here- 2 years ago. Me and Shiro knew each other through..a mutual friend. He helped me land this job.”

Keith didn’t know that. “Wait, you and Shiro knew each other before? He never mentioned that-”

“That has nothing to do with the case, so you don’t need to be wasting time asking me that.”

Keith blinked, but he supposed, they did have a good point. “Okay. Let’s get right into it. My first question- what do you do in your spare time?

Pidge paused, and their eyebrows shot up in surprise.“Are you kidding me?”

Keith didn’t respond, and Pidge continued to look bewildered. Finally, they looked down, and replied; “I research papers on my case and attend to some family needs.”

“Like what?”

“What has this got to do with the case?”

“Just answer it, Gunderson.”

They pursed their lips but continued. “I research things.”

“Things.”

They looked irritated. “Why do you need to know, Kogane? What has this got to do with anything?”

Keith let out a breath and sighed. They weren’t going to answer the questions until something was actually clarified. Which meant he would have to tell her something- but definitely not the truth. “We found the killer to have some relations with one of the detectives in this group-“ he noticed their eyes widen slightly but continued, “that’s why I wanted to find out maybe a brother, sister- cousin, friend...I wanna know what you were researching so I can..make sure you’re not in contact with them.”

They didn’t say anything for a little while after that, merely staring at Keith with an expression difficult to read. Then-

“I'm trying to find my brother.”

Keith blinked. That was unexpected. “I don’t understand.”

“My brother. Matt Holt. He went missing a couple of years back.” they paused wanting to say something but changing their mind. then but continuing. “He used to live here- went here for college-”

“With Shiro,” Keith said.

Suddenly everything was making sense. The limited, withdrawn social attitude, only speaking to Shiro and mysteriously disappearing. Oddly enough Keith felt relieved that they weren’t the killer in the end- they were just a younger sibling grieving for the loss of their brother. Thinking of it now, Keith remembered Shiro talking about his late best friends younger sister- Katie Holt- but Keith remembered her to be feminine, long hair, dresses, not at all the person standing in front of them now. Keith also remembered that Matt was the one driving the night of the car accident where Shiro lost his arm but earned a few new scars. The only difference between his memory and Pidge-(Katie’s?) story was that Matt didn’t disappear after the accident- he died.

Pidge seemed to notice Keith’s realisation. “Matt- Matt’s alive. I didn’t believe it at first, didn’t really want to let myself hope- but a year ago, I got a letter in the mail.” They knew Coran wouldn’t let me join if I told him my name- real name- Katie Holt was kinda known around here. I had to change my name- and not let anyone be suspicious of me. That’s why I used Pidge, and why I never spoke to you guys.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “So. Now I know, what do you want me to call you- and I guess, what are your pronouns then?” (Haha, Keith thought, I’m woke)

“My brother called me Pidge. I don’t mind the name Katie, but- Pidge is easier I guess. And..” They made a face. “They/them man. I'm they/them."

Keith blinked. Damnit. “Oh. Okay.” He looked down at his notes, which were practically blank. "So on the night of the 15th of March, you were-”

“In the library, trying to find evidence of my brother’ case that could’ve been covered up.” They replied. “Here-” they took out her phone and flicked through it before stopping it and showing the screen to Keith.

The photo’s date was the 15th, at 8:42 pm- it was a picture of a computer screen with some writing on the Right Side- an article? And next to it, a news story that Keith couldn't read but had a picture of a young man who was unmistakable Katie’s older brother. With him was another man with silver hair but the focus was undoubtedly on Matt.

So, he thought. It wasn’t Katie- Pidge.

“Thank You for your time, Katie.”

They cracked a smile. “It’s Pidge.”

He smiled back, and began to get out of his seat, before he paused, and turned to her again, “Oh, and Pidge?”

They raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t- Don’t mention this to anyone else, okay? This is...highly confidential.”

“Of course.”

* * *

He was sitting at his desk, consumed with thoughts of who it could be now.

Pidge- Katie- wasn’t the killer. Now he knew a little more about her, he couldn’t believe he was even considering it in the first place. They was so, so young, and all they wanted was to find out what had happened to her brother.

The only thing that still puzzled him slightly was the fact that Shiro had never mentioned who Pidge really was, and what both of them were trying to do. But, he supposed it was because he didn’t want to worry Keith, which Keith understood.

Either way, the most disappointing thing that had been discovered was the very fact that he, as a result of once again picking the wrong person to question, had essentially wasted another day for nothing. It was almost humiliating, the realisation that he was once again grasping for nothing.

It was as if his own mind didn’t trust himself. Which in itself was infuriating, but he had to remember that emotions would do him no good here.

He didn’t _need_ his mind- he needed his logic and his skill and justice.

_And his friends._

He could talk to Hunk and Pidge about it, maybe?

No. They wouldn’t believe him. Think about it _logically_ -why on _earth_ would they believe him? Keith still had no explanation as to how on Earth it was remotely possible that he went back in time and if he couldn’t explain it to himself, he certainly couldn’t explain it to his friends.

No. Once again he would be doing this on his own.

Onto the next one. He looked at the next name on the list.

Now, this was where things began to get interesting. The list was much shorter now, the answer lying between two people.

He looked at one of the names in particular. Of course, of course, it would be them.

“Adam.”

He looked up slightly, worried someone might have heard him. Evidently no one did, although the man in question was no-where to be seen, a was Shiro. Looking further, he saw Lance chatting to Hunk and Pidge at hi desk, whilst Allura worked quietly alone and the captain was sat in his room.

Keith stood up. He needed to get to Shiro- to warn him about what was about to happen to him. He deserved to know his boyfriend was a killer.

“Oh my _God_!!!!”

Keith turned to the source of the interruption, Allura’s unmistakable British accent ringing out shrill and clear. Then just as quickly as it happened, she was rising out from her desk and running, running at something in the direction of the door.

Keith turned to look at the door and gaped.

“‘Lurra, Princess !” said the man, “Surprise!!”

Lotor.

* * *

“What on earth are you doing here?” said Allura, a good five minutes after he had entered into her reunion hug (and make-out) with Lotor. “You said you weren’t going to be back for another month!”

Lotor smiled, perfect white teeth glowing slightly as he looked back at her. “I was always coming back now, right from the beginning. I wanted to surprise you but I couldn’t find you at home, I must say- I wasn't expecting to see you working though, I thought you had today off?”

By this point, the entire group had come to greet their old friend.

Allura pulled a face. “_Usually_, yeah. But Uncle Coran’s been on the precincts ass about the killings recently, and since I’m Sargent, I gotta oversee everyone trying to work on it.”

Lotor blinked. “Killings..?”

To this, Hunk, who had rooted himself in esteem Pidge and Lance in the circle surrounding Lotor spluttered. “W-do you not know?”

“Know what? Who’s dead?”

“A lot of people.” Said Pidge, eyes dark. “They’re being labelled as suicides, but…”

Lotor nodded, understanding at once. “There’s no way all of them could be.” He let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Once he had opened them, he spoke up again. “Nice to know littles changed in my time away.”

“I’m sorry this is the Altea you’re returning to,” Shiro said, placing a reassuring hand onto the other man's shoulder. “But I am glad you’re back.”

“We all are” Keith felt himself saying.

Lotor looked over to him, kind eyes shining. Keith could tell he was happy to be back at work.

In the precinct.

The precinct.

The...the same one as the others.

Lotor looked away when Lance began cracking a new anecdote and Keith felt brain explode.

The killer was Lotor.

* * *

If he wasn’t freaking out, he would have probably likened his current mood as Charlie Kelly from its always sunny in Philadelphia (you know that picture where he’s madly looking through papers trying to find a lead? Yeah, Keith felt like that.)

It’s a good thing now was a good time to FREAK ! OUT !

Keith quickly did the math in his head and twirled his pen between his fingertips as the rest of the squad either went back to work or bombarded Lotor with more questions as he smiled good-naturedly and answered them all.

The problem with this life-shattering discovery dear readers was that he had no leads, information, or solid evidence against the guy. At least with Pidge and Hunk, he was given a few hours to drum up some motive- here he had nothing.

But maybe he didn’t need evidence.

Maybe… maybe he just needed to _act_ as if he did.

If he cornered Lotor with the information that he did have, he could just let Lotor, who was so obviously and undoubtedly responsible, he’d have Lotor in chains by tomorrow morning.

Ha! Yes. Keith knew exactly what he was doing This was fine. Lotor was a backstabbing traitor, and Keith was going to bring him to justice.

* * *

Night came, and Lance, Lotor, and Keith were in a car driving through the city, listening to Hunk tell the others about Keith and how he accidentally interrogated Hunk into revealing his girlfriend. Lance was cracking up whilst Keith smiled, embarassed. Maybe if he hadn't been so focused on not looking so red in front of Lance, he would have noticed Lotor's eyes boring into Keith.

Lotor had suggested the gang go out so he could catch up with them and visit the town he has been away from for so long, to which Keith had immediately agreed (what better way to crack the case then when Lotor was least expecting it?), and Hunk and Lance soon followed suit.

Allura declined, as did Pidge and Shiro due to them working on “other things” to which Keith now knew to mean “Finding My Brother Who Is Alive But Like I Have No Idea Where He Is”.

Adam said he was busy too.

So it was just the four of them spending the night together, and it was...nice.

Even though Lotor was an axe-wielding maniac and surely so obviously the killer, it was nice that know he knew who it was, he could relax a little (just for a few hours). And, with Keith being here (and he supposed Hunk, too) he could keep Lance safe from that monster.

They were just about to drive to each of their homes when his phone rang and to his surprise, it was Adam. After telling the rest of the group in the car to be quiet, he picked up, more confused than anything else.

“Adam?” Keith began. “What’s going-“

“Keith where are you, are you safe?”

He felt his heart begin to beat quickly and turned to where Hunk, Lance and Lotor were all having a wildly interesting conversation. “Adam, I’m fine, I’m with Lotor, Lance and Hunk- we’re just driving- what’s going-“

“Where are you? What are you near?”

“Uh..the mall I guess?”

Adams's voice was panicked and fast. “That’s near “Lotor’s house, right? Good- you need to get to a house now. It’s the killer, Keith- a new victim was found, the body can’t be more than 30 minutes old- he’s running lose through Altea right now!”

“What?!”

By this point, Lotor and Lance looked towards him, remnants of laughter still on their faces.

“What’s going on?” Said Lance. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s the killer- he just murdered someone now!”

All three men’s faces dropped in shock before Lotor, snapping into action, yelled: “Hunk, head to my house, now! We need to get out of here.”

Hunk pulled a U-turn before driving quicker in a different direction, towards Lotor's apartment.

* * *

They were crashing at Lotor’s. Allura, who was staying at the precinct with Coran to work on the case had flipped out when she found out what had happened and it was only after Lotor had a lengthy conversation over the phone with her (it was more of a structured debate, said Lance) and convinced her of just how dangerous it actually was to go outside whilst the killer was seemingly out and about that she agreed.

“I don’t want to have to lose you, too, my love.” Lotor had said gently, softly. Of course, this was a panging reminder of Lotor being disowned as a teenager, something he never _ever_ spoke about. 

She had agreed not long after.

Either way, Lotor still had some money- enough where Hunk and Lance shared one of the spare rooms and Keith had his own.

Which meant he had room to process what had just happened.

The spare room didn’t have a desk, just a single twin bed in the middle of the room and a small closet next to it with a white dresser beside it.

Keith was wearing a simple vest and some slightly too big sweatpants, courtesy of Lotor.

He sat on the bed, listening to the others in the living room to discuss what had happened, Lotor only chiming in to ask the occasional question.

Keith threw his head back and collapsed onto the bed.

He had been so _sure_ it was Lotor.

He wasn't as close to Lotor as he was with the others. He miraculously appears out of nowhere after like 8 months away, perfect and a gentleman and kind, and he’s what. Just supposed to believe that? He was nice and charming and caring and gentle and…ah man. How the hell could Keith have thought it was him?

He was going crazy.

Keith blinked and felt a lump begin to form in his throat. Another day was gone- was ruined- and it was all because of him.

Before, back when Lance has died, there hadn’t been another victim this close to Lance's death. It was as if whoever was doing this was taunting him, mocking him for his failures and reminding him that because of those failures, Lance was going to die.

It was all _his_ fault.

Maybe if he hadn’t been wallowing in self-pity for some time he would have noticed the man in the corner of his vision, but it wasn’t until a gentle “ahem” was heard that Keith was snapped back into reality, looking up at the figure who had appeared at the front of the room.

“I wanted to see if you were doing alright,” said Lance, softly. His eyebrows were knitted together in concern.

Brilliant.

Truth be told he had been avoiding Lance like the plague these couple days and he knew that was dumb and that not only was Lance smart enough to figure out Keith wasn’t talking to him. He knew he was hurting him but he just. Couldn’t bring himself to speak to him- to act like everything was okay.

“I’m fine.” He replied, not getting up from where he was on the bed. “You can go away now.”

Lance looked like he was about to say something but stopped, then: “I know you’re mad at me.”

Fantastic.

Keith sat up. His head began to hurt. “What are you even talking about, Lance?”

Lance pulled a face. “I don’t know what happened- but I must have done something because you’ve been weird with me since the accident a few days ago.” He frowned. “But whenever I try to ask you about it you act like-“ Lance seemed to search for the right word to use, but when he couldn’t find it, sighed and instead said: “-you just act like you’re mad at me.”

Keith knew he was going to have to say something convincing so Lance would believe him, and also, so Lance wouldn’t get hurt.

“You’re crazy.” Keith replied.

Ah Kogane why must you do this to yourself.

A flash of hurt crossed over his face before Lance folded his arms. “Thanks, man.” he scoffed, and it was just so..uncharacteristic of him to do so that Keith felt a weird uncomfortable feeling reside itself within him. “You know- next time you get all weird like this, I’m just gonna leave you alone. Apparently, trying to help you only ends up with being told that you’re... insane.” He spat the last word out, and before Keith could do anything, he walked out of the door.

Or at least, he began too, but stopped halfway through, shook his head, and without turning round to face the other man, spoke again- tone hurt, not angry. “Whatever’s going on with you...I hope you figure it out.”

Then he was gone.

* * *

After Keith had spent the next few hours healthily bashing his head against the wall, he had resided onto laying on the bed staring up at the blue ceiling again.

“You’re crazy?” He muttered to himself. “You told the man you- _ugh_\- you told Lance he was _crazy_.” He groaned again (wow groaning was like, becoming his thing apparently.)

Dear God why was he LIKE this.

A knock at the door startled him, and, upon realising that his groans could be misheard as his practising his rendition of a whale mating call at 2:36 am, he rose out of the bed and widely racked his brain for some form of an excuse to tell whoever was here, likely tired and therefore slightly out of it, complaining he was loud.

When he opened the door, however, the man who stood, waiting didn’t look tired at all. Nor angry.

Without a word, he swept into the room and Keith instinctively closed the door behind him and waited for him to speak.

The man looked around the room for a little while and somehow this insinuated him far more than Keith would be liked to admit. He seemed to be figuring out what to say, which Keith found weird considering he was already there in the first place- but it wasn’t until Keith opened his mouth to speak that Lotor spoke.

“Keith,” he said, looking down, eyes dark with no trace of humour on his face. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

Keith’s heart stopped.

“Wha- uh.” Fuck! Think, Kogane! “Whatdoyoumean.”

Lotor still didn’t meet his eye, although Keith could tell his expression was concentrated- determined.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Keith. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Keith didn’t reply- he waited.

“And I’m going to help you find out who killed him.”

Keith swallowed, unsure whether or not he heard Lotor correctly. “Killed who?”

Lotor finally looked up at him raised an eyebrow, eyes intense. “I’m going to help you find who killed Lance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all: IT'S OBVIOUSLY LOTOR  
me, knowing about this chapter:


	4. Beguile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks, Adam, Plans, and realisations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to break up this chapter into two parts because the next chapters are meaty and have a lot of information in them and are a MONSTER to write.  
also I wrote this all in a rage so I uhhhhhhhhhh this might be interesting.  
Hope you enjoy!

_August 5th, 2018._

_A man stood staring at the bleak grey walls surrounding him. He wore seemingly normal clothes, but he had a small black knife tucked away in his belt._

_He had broken off from the rest of the group. They were all here for a much different reason to him._

_Getting in wasn’t the hard part. All he had to do was claim he had read her miracle cure online, and that he needed it badly. He had connections to her, somewhat, and lying about them- knowing it would make her believe him- was a piece of cake._

_It was the getting out that was a problem._

_He decided that he would cross that bridge when he got to it. The only other person who knew he was here was safe at home, perhaps knowing where he was but unaware of the importance of his mission._

_He looked at the selection of doors painted across the room and knew that through on one of them was the answer to his search._

_“Hey! You!” A voice startled him and he instinctively reached for his weapon. He didn’t take it out, however, as his cover wasn’t blown. Yet._

_“What are you doing here?” the voice had a host, and it was tall and ugly, with a nose ring and a large scar across the side of his face. “You shouldn't be here- ugh. It doesn’t even matter. You need to come with me, now. She requested you specifically.”_

_He pursed his lips. This was starting to get more complicated then he expected. He tried to look innocent. “Honest, Sir, I was just looking around the facility. I think it’s so cool that you’re trying to hel-”_

_“I don’t care what you think.” The ugly man sighed and grabbed his arm, to which he yelped and protested slightly. “She wants to see you now.”_

_He gulped._

_Fuck._

* * *

Shiro came out to Keith when Keith began going through puberty and met an annoying short kid with blue eyes who “honestly needs to drop out, Shiro.”

It was casual and without any negative memories or implications. Shiro merely smiled and told him quietly that being unique, and not liking girls in the way the movies told him- was okay.

Keith had spluttered and indignantly told him “It’s _not_ a crush Shiro!”

It totally was.

Either way, Keith never dealt with ..confusion about his sexuality- he just, knew he was always gay.

As was life, when Shiro introduced his new boyfriend Adam to him, his first thought was: “_Fuck. He’s hot_.”

But, he and Adam ultimately got on well as friends. Though clearly attractive, Keith never thought anything of it other than his first thought. They were close, and regularly discussed topics in depth over dinners Shiro had tried (and failed) to make.

He admired Adam.

Therefore, looking at his hastily made case file, with every aspect of his life laid out in front of him, Keith felt odd.

He had gone over the thought process at least a million times.

  1. The key card could only have been made from someone already in the precinct
  2. It was a detectives authorisation card, which gives you less access then a Sergeant card or a Captain card.
  3. Therefore the possibility of Allura or Coran being responsible were logically exceptionally low.
  4. Hunk and Pidge were innocent- he proved that.
  5. The only two other people it could have been was either Shiro or Adam.
  6. It wasn’t Shiro, because Shiro was Shiro, and Keith knew Shiro so and it wasn’t, therefore, Shiro.

It had to be him.

Yes, it would break his brother’s heart. But Shiro would be able to get over it eventually.

He had presented the facts to Lotor, who didn’t seem at all surprised Keith had done what he had. He agreed with almost everything, though softly protested Keith’s apparent determination that Adam was in fact, responsible. But once Keith had emphasised the importance of finding out who had done this, so that he (or, he had said, “we, now that you’re with me”) could stop them before they hurt Lance- and that he was only doing what he was doing and acting the way that he was because feeling any emotion at all would slow them both down and cloud their judgements- Lotor accepted it. Begrudgingly.

_So. Let’s review._

Adam Wilson.

27 Years Old. Birthday: 22nd of September.

Originally born in Cleveland, Ohio, Adam moved to Brooklyn after university.

Single-parent household, mother died at a young age after a spat with cancer.

Wanted to be a detective all his life, so moved to the heart of cop-shows. New York.

Met Shiro at the training facility for up-and-coming police-officers, and got together 4 months after initially meeting.

And, Keith thought as he wrote next to the file presented- murderer.

“What we don’t have,” said Lotor after reviewing Keith’s notes. “Is evidence. Or a motive- both of which are essential to proving Adam’s involvement in this, Keith.”

Keith rolled his eyes. Of course, Lotor wouldn’t understand. He sipped his coffee. “We don’t have the time for that, Lotor. We only have 3 _days_ to convict Adam!”

Lotor didn’t seem to understand. “We can’t convict someone with no evidence or a motive, Keith- that’s basic logi-”

“I don’t _care_ about logic!” he spat.

“You need to if it helps your case.”

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?!”

Lotor narrowed his eyes and Keith momentarily got shocked back into reality, remembering how terrifying Lotor could become should he choose to be.

“If you want to save your little _boyfriend_,” he said, no emotion to his voice but still managing to cause Keith’s heart to miss a beat. “You will quit playing hero and actually listen to me.” He straightened up slightly. “I don’t think drinking that much coffee is remotely healthy for you. When was the last time you even slept?”

The bags under his eyes moaned at this, begging for their host to allow them to rest. Keith ignored them and drank more coffee. “Does it matter? This way I’ve managed to eliminate thr-two criminals- uh- suspects- isn’t it better this way?” he shook his head. “Besides, I’ll be able to sleep a lot tomorrow once that...monster is behind bars.”

“That..monster as you named him,” mocked Lotor, “is your brothers boyfriend.”

“My brother will be able to move on from him.”

“You know that wasn’t my point Kogane.”

“Then what was it?” he was getting more and more irritated speaking to him and he didn’t even know why.

Lotor once more did not back away from Keith’s harsh tone. “All I’m saying is that you’re not even considering the very real possibility that Shiro could even be somewhat invole-”

“I’m not considering it because Shiro isn’t involved.” he took a breath and closed his eyes. He opened them again and attempted to continue, calmly- “You don’t understand. You don’t know Shiro the way I do. Shiro would never do something like this- would never even hurt a fly.”

“Maybe you don’t know him as much as you think you do.”

There was an apoplectic ball of rage that exploded within Keith when Lotor said that. How dare he even insinuate such a thing. Keith stood up from his desk to his full height (which was still pretty short in comparison to the giant that was Lotor). “Just as you know Allura, I know Shiro. Unless…” he stopped. He was seething. “Unless you want her on the list of suspects _too_?”

It was a low blow, but it did the trick. Lotor did not reply, and Keith, satisfied, sat back down at his desk. The ball of rage subsided down to its usual size over the past few days. Small and hot, but nothing else. “Now come over here,” he said. “We have work to do.”

* * *

_The man screamed out in pain once again as electricity coursed through his veins. Finally, after half a minute maybe, she turned it off._

_“I’m not going to ask you again, boy.” She sneered at him, and the other men jittered with her. “Who sent you!”_

_He was jolting now uncontrollably, the electricity leaving him unable to properly remain still. Still, with an unimaginable amount of effort, he replied. “Yo Mama.”_

_The woman let out a roar of anger and turned the weapon on once more, to which he let out an anguished yell._

_Why wasn’t she just killing him already?_

_Apparently he had voiced his thoughts (he was barely able to make out what was real and what was fake) because she smiled and turned off the machine. It was a gruesome sight, her twisted features forming into a smile that bared no warmth, no light._

_“I have a much better use for you, boy.”_

* * *

An hour later, they had come up with a plan.

They needed to separate Adam and Shiro so that Shiro didn’t waltz in on an interrogation. Keith would distract Shiro, whilst Lotor sought out Adam, claiming he wanted to catch up for some coffee after being away for so long. What would make it more believable would be getting Adam to slip up and accidentally reveal his wicked plan, and then Lotor would be right there, voice recorder hidden underneath his shirt, getting a signed confession quickly and efficiently.

Lotor would have to quickly sign out the equipment they would be using before the rest of the unit came in for work, whilst Keith would make up an excuse causing Shiro not to come into work altogether. With Shiro out of the picture, Lotor could pawn Adam for the day and no-one would suspect a thing.

Once they had the confession, they would go to Coran _immediately_ (Keith had repeated this over and over) and Adam, the cruel demon, wicked monster, sadistic serial killer- would be locked away for eternity.

He would have to be there for Shiro, of course. This would be tough and it would require a lot of care and vigilance but Shiro had survived far too much to not be able to survive something like this.

* * *

Dawn came and the other two boys woke to fine Keith and Lotor dressed for the day.

Lance, rubbing his eyes tiredly blinked slowly at the sight. “What are you two doing up?”

Keith didn’t even look at him, and Lotor had to swoop in and answer on their behalf.

“Keith doesn’t feel very well so I’m gonna drive him to his place and meet you guys at the office. I...hope that’s okay?”

Hunk and Lance shared a look and likely shared an entire conversation with it. Finally, they reached an agreement to which Hunk tentatively said: “Keith bud...you good?”

This seemed to add as a catalyst to the ball of rage slowly growing within him once more. People needed to stop worrying about how Keith was and start worrying about how to get a maniac off the streets.

He didn’t reply, just kept staring forward and drumming his hands on the table.

Lotor spoke up once more. “He...feels really sure ill. I think it has something to do with all that coffee he’s been drinking lately- I told him it was too much, but you know Keith!”

This made Hunk crack a grin. “The Hot-Head.” He said, smiling.

Lance, on the other hand, looked confused. “I thought you didn’t like coffee?” he said, though more to himself than anything else.

Keith stood up suddenly allowing the chair behind him to clang in protest. He grabbed Lotors jacket and marched over to the door, all the whilst ignoring the protests of the other man and the confused remarks of Hunk and Lance.

“He just really feels ill you guys!!” Lotor attempted to say as he was led to the door. “Feel free to eat anything from the kitchen but don’t go into my-“

The door closed behind him them.

Hunk raised a brow. “What the hell is up with him lately? Why’s he acting all weird?”

Lance didn’t reply, but looked down, once again stung by Keith’s actions.

“Hey.” Hunk went closer to him and led him to the nearby sofa in the other room. “Are you okay?”

Lance looked up at his friend. “Somethings up with Keith.” He sighed. “I don’t know what I’ve done but he’s barely talked to me all week- and I thought it was because he was recovering from his accident or something stupid but now I find out that apparently he’s totally fine with _Lotor_ of all people?” He threw his arms up. “Lotor! The guy he hasn’t seen in _months_! How is he closer to Lotor than he is to me?”

Hunk thought about the last few days, and how Keith had burst in, the day after his accident, stringing up a rather far-fetched lie that Hunk had only played along with out of pity. He thought about what he was asked, and how genuinely surprised Keith was that he had a girlfriend- almost as if that _wasn't _the surprising part.

February 12th...the day one of the victims had been killed. Why was Keith asking him where he had been then? 

Surely it couldn't mean-

Oh.

Oh no.

“Lance..." Hunk met his friends eyes, "I have to tell you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou for all the incredible comments and love you're giving me (i eat that shit UP)  
also i changed the chapter count slightly WOOOOOOOOOOOO  
See you next you time folks, please remember to comment and leave a kudos if you can w all your theories :))))))))))))


	5. Belief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy.  
I was debating whether or not to do the big apology whatever at the beginning or the end. As you can probably tell, I’ve decided on doing it at the beginning (you’ll understand why at the end of this chapter.)  
SO.  
It goes without saying that I am so, so so sorry that I haven’t uploaded in so long. I did, however, have my reasons.  
I’m currently a senior in High-school and I had my fall finals back in November. Immediately after that, I had to complete a project worth half an A-Level’s worth of work called an EPQ (obviously my American friends won’t know what that is, it’s basically half a dissertation I guess?). On top of that, I was applying to universities to study Law, so I had to write my college essay and do some tests and make sure my grades were high enough, all that jazz.  
I don’t know if anything particularly cares about my personal life, but I did p well in the fall finals, applied and got accepted to 5 law schools (that’s the max. amount allowed in England) and got an A+ in my EPQ, which is all pretty fun.  
Either way, I am back now and I’ve written this chapter, the next one, and half the one after that. 
> 
> These are the chapter’s that started this whole idea in the first place. Though not quite, we’re very much almost in the endgame now.  
One thing I wanted to quickly mention was that the inspiration behind the name "Arlag" was 100% done by reading an absolutely incredible fic "The boy and the Nutcracker", so if you want, you can check that out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115315/chapters/20718001
> 
> I’m not going to do an end-note for this chapter, again, you’ll understand why ahahah. So usual housekeeping:
> 
> As always, please remember to leave a kudos and leave a comment (comments encourage me to work faster- I received two comments last week out of the blue that encouraged me to finally finish this monster of a chapter and finish it out for y'all. I really, really, really appreciate them and they do motivate me to finish fics or keep on writing them). This took me a lot of effort to do- and what takes y’all maybe 4 minutes to read took me and other writers weeks and months of constant effort to finish for you.  
That’s all for now. Enjoy :)

“I’m _ill_.”

His brother hummed. Aside from that, Shiro ignored him and carried on with packing his things for the day ahead. There was going to be an emergency meeting mandated by Allura -(as the killings were being labelled as suicides they couldn’t technically get Coran to mandate it- but he would be there).

_“Shiroooooooooo.”_

“I heard you the first time.” His brother replied calmly. Shiro continued to vainly attempt to fit his laptop in a too-small laptop case Adam had bought him once- not realising that it was the wrong size- which Shiro refused not to use despite Adam (and Keith) pleading with him to let it go (_“it’s about the PRINCIPLE, Keith!”_) Even so, Shiro still tried to force the fabric around the laptop (but he did not break a sweat, damn huge muscles and all that.) 

“Then why are you ignoring me” Keith whined back. He knew he was being annoying, was aware that he was being irritating- but it was for the greater good! Technically Shiro should be thanking him.

So far the “plan” (if you could even call it that) was not going strictly as, well, planned. 

For one thing, Adam was currently refusing to speak to an incredibly exasperated Lotor, who had texted Keith a number of times stating there was just no use and they should do it tomorrow (to which Keith lightning texted back various different rebuttals, mostly consisting of “how _dare_ you.”

Then, Shiro being Shiro, was hell-bent on going into work to discuss what had happened last night. “Don’t you want me to help the others figure out what the hell’s even going on with this town?”

“Well-” Keith said. “I’ll just go with you again- like how I did before.”

Shiro raised a perfectly crafted eyebrow. “You said you were ill, right?” Not waiting for a response, he stood up from his chair and shouldered his rucksack. “You should stay home and rest.”

“But-But- you can’t leave me!” Keith spluttered. “I- you- What if I need help?”

But Shiro was already walking out of the door. “I know you got some of your memories jumbled up after that crash, Keith.” He stopped and turned to him. “But you’re a 27-year-old man. You can take care of yourself. And if you really need me- you still remember what a phone is.”

Then the door closed, and he was gone.

_Great._

* * *

As he watched Shiro's car leave the drive-way, he opened up his phone and texted Lotor. 

08:20 Yeah I think we have a problem

Lotor replied back within a few seconds, the sarcasm dripping off of the text like honey.

_08:20: Oh do we _

08:20: He didn’t believe me and he’s on his way to work. You’re going to have to figure out another option!

_08:21: Why can’t you? Just come to work like how you were here when I came back to town???_

08:21: Already tried that. Shiro said that if I was so ill I genuinely thought I needed my brother, I definitely couldn’t go into work

_08:21: He does have a point _

08:21: Can you just stay focused? 

08:21: You obviously can’t talk to Adam when Shiro comes otherwise he might get suspicious- have you managed to get him to confess?

_08:22: If I had, why wouldn’t I have texted you first._

Keith rolled his eyes and typed his response.

08:22: What should we do now? I can’t go into work and you can’t talk to Adam- there isn’t a way to do this.

_08:22: There might be, but you won’t like it._

8:22: I don’t care what it is as long as it proves our theory.

_It took another couple of minutes to get a response._

_8:25: Your theory- not mine. _

_8:25: Shiro’s bound to have a key to Adam’s place. I’ve seen those two together, the only reason Shiro hasn’t moved in with him is because the apartment’s too small._

_8:25: Find the key and get to Adam’s apartment. Find the information you need there._

Keith stared at his phone. 

That would mean breaking and entering- trespass- burglary- for christ's sake. His brother’s boyfriend’s apartment, of all things. 

But it would give him proof. Proof that Adam killed Lance.

His reply was short and blunt.

8:26: I’m in.

* * *

Usually, Keith didn’t go near Shiro's room. 

More of a privacy thing than anything else, but after Shiro came back from the army (they were poor and needed money, and Shiro was more than happy to risk his own life to ensure Keith and his parents had enough money to live) Shiros PTSD was through the _roof_, and having his own space helped him feel more at home (or at least, that's what he told Keith.) 

So, as one may assume, it felt increasingly odd going into his room, drinking in the sights surrounding him. It was clean, with surprisingly less clutter littered around. Must be the whole army thing, he reckoned to himself.

The shelves were neat. The floor was clean. There were a few pictures of him, once with Adam, once with Keith, and then once with what Keith could only assume was Matt.

For a moment he could only stare. Take it all in, he supposed.

It was nice.

Either way, it wouldn’t be once Keith was done trashing it. 

He began to look into the cabinets next to his bed, then under the music, then the chest of drawers. All to no avail, he cursed and got up and scanned the room once more, before landing on a small brown envelope right in the corner of the room between the chest of drawers. It looked as if it had fallen between the two. 

He picked it up and looked into the Envelope.

There was a post-it-note which read: “LAUNDRY!!!!!”

Useful.

Disregarding the fact that Shiro had a whole envelope dedicated to remembering to do Laundry, he focused instead of the little bump the envelope made when he placed it onto the table.

Sure enough, when he investigated further (he was a detective, you see) he found a small silver key with a heart keychain lying underneath the envelope, which Keith didn’t recognise as the houses. 

Keith sighed. It was going to hurt Shiro a lot once he realised the truth, unfortunately. 

But Keith knew he was doing the right thing. 

He opened his phone and texted Lotor. 

08:58: Got it. 

He quickly placed the key somewhere safe and set off to Adams’s apartment with nothing but a vague idea of the address and morally ambiguous reasons for trespass. 

He’d find what he needed to. For sure. 

* * *

He didn’t find anything.

You see, dear reader, I would love to write a lengthy paragraph about the hard-hitting evidence Detective Kogane stumbles upon whilst investigating his best friend’s (and maybe something more) murder. Please realise I _wish_ I could depict Keith’s success’, bringing Adam to justice and keeping the bustling city of Altea safe. 

However, I think you and I _both know _I can't do that.

The truth was, after three hours spent carefully flicking through each and every piece of material he could find, aside from the fact that he had spent half an hour staring at his motorbike which was laying, abandoned, in the small driveway in the apartment blocks garage area, Keith had to look at Adam’s room, his brother’s boyfriend room, and realise with a sigh he hadn't found anything.

If he was going to try and find proof, he was going to have to come up with something else.

* * *

Keith reached the bus stop home and, after climbing on the next bus, took out his phone. He was halfway through informing Lotor on the failure when he paused.

You see, he couldn’t just text him, for he knew what he was going to say! Lecture him on the negatives of this mission, call him out on how bad his intuition was, make him even more riled to how he was right now, which he certainly didn’t need right now. 

Christ. He needed coffee. 

He put his phone back and thought some more.

As Adam was now, of course, the killer, because who else could it be, the only logical answer was that he was hiding the evidence in some other way. 

Maybe Adam already knew this was going to happen, that Keith- being the awesome amazing detective that he _IS_, realised that Keith was onto him.

That Mad Man!

He needed to think- think! Think Kogane, think! 

Adam Wilson would not get away with this- he would not kill lance!

He needed to prove Adam was with the other victim when she had died. 

But how could he prove such a thing?

Before he could even think some more, his phone buzzed. 

_Lotor, 11:54 am: Adam is on his way back to get some files. Leave now. _

He sent a quick message back.

Keith, 11:54 am: Already on the bus home. Call when you can. 

A couple of minutes later Lotors face flashed up onto his call list. He answered it, and quickly recounted what he had learnt to Lotors at the end, he waited for Lotors response.

“That is not good news.”

“No shit.”

“I would appreciate it if you used less of that tongue, Kogane."

“Well, what should I do?”

Lotor thought for a moment. “I was talking to Allura about where the murder took place. Apparently it was somewhere the park next to the Arlag coffee shop and the post-office. You know the one?”

After grunting his answer, Lotor continued. “I was looking into the exact area and noticed that this time, on top of the post-office there looks like a small CCTV camera, which is a first. Apparently the owners of the Post-Office weren’t around when it happened and don’t even know if their CCTV was recording- but it’s worth a shot. If we manage to get to those recordings, then-”

“Then we can find out who killed Lance!”

Lotor coughed and muttered “Not so loud. I’m still at work.”

But Keith was practically vibrating off his seat at this point. Here he might actually have a real break in the case rather than the work he had been attempting to do for however long, which all turned out to be duds. “How are you going to get access to their recordings?”

“Simple.” Replied Lotor. “I’ll say it’s an emergency, maybe give them an incentive, tell them it’s vital police work-”

“Which it _is_.”

“-and they’ll let us for sure.”

Keith couldn’t hold back a tired smile. Today, it would all be over. Adam would be in prison, and Lance would be safe.

They quickly discussed the new plan. Lotor would stay at the precinct contacting who he needed to whilst ensuring his girlfriend and everyone else they should pack up for the night. Once he was sure the coast was clear, Keith would tell Shiro that he was bored of being cooped up all day and Lotor offered to take him out. Then, they would work at the precinct, find the answers, arrest Adam, and _save Lance._

Oh yeah. It’s all coming together.

* * *

Shiro, who had decided to stay over at Adam’s was already ruining the new plan.  
It did little to nothing to calm his nerves, but he couldn’t exactly march over there, throw Adam against a wall and yell for Shiro to run- he’d look insane.

Well, more insane than people thought he was.

He was just about to go, opening his phone to call Lotor and ask where he was to pick him up when his phone chimed with a notification.

**Adam, 07:06: are you feeling better? Shiro told me you were feeling ill- it’s not because of the crash is it? If you want I could stop by and we could go to the hospital- figure some stuff out?**

Keith, 07:06: I think I’m good- nothing that warrants a doctor’s visit anyway lol

**Adam: Ok Imma be real w you Shiro just doesn’t want you to be alone with all the shit that’s been going down recently.**

**07:06: Did you hear what happened just now?**

His heart sunk.

07:06: Don’t tell me another body was found.

**07:07: Yep.**

**07:08 We were all at the precinct when we found out- the ‘98 got to the body way before us, and we didn’t have any actual confirmation till now, that's why Shiro didn't tell you. **

**07:09: I’m so happy I knew Shiro was with you, I don't know what I would have done if I didn't know where he was.**

Keith stared at his phone.

Shiro wasn’t at the precinct?

Keith blinked. He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to reply to that, but he knew he had enough common sense to recognise that he couldn’t act surprised. 

He texted back some random response- then told the other man he was busy all of a sudden and had to go. 

Quickly closing it, there was a slight puffing sound as he threw his phone on the bed.  
Shiro had lied.

Shiro hadn’t been at home with him- nor had he had been at the precinct.

That meant….

“Keith!”

Lotor’s voice jarred him out of the spiral that had begun to consume him. Keith looked up and was met with Lotor, somehow holding what Keith could only assume had to be the keys to his apartment that he had acquired.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

Keith shook his head slightly. “Sorry- was in my own head. Uh- what did you say?”

“I managed to get the files from the night the other victim died. They’re at the precinct now, but I couldn’t watch them with a bunch of other people there.” He paused a bit. “We can check-”

“Why didn’t you tell me Shiro wasn’t at work?”

Lotor looked at him and then blinked. “He was?”

What?

“But- but Adam just told me he wasn’t- that he didn’t come into work at all!”

Lotor continued to stare at him. “I assure you Shiro was in.” He said slowly. “How did he tell you this?”

Keith didn’t reply, just looked over to his phone. Lotor frowned and walked over to the bed, before asking softly what his password was.

After Keith told him, Lotor looked into his phone, clearly going into his texts with Adam. He frowned again and tried to scroll some more, before eventually looking up.

“Keith, you haven’t even spoken to Adam today.”

Keith gaped.

He was losing his fucking mind.

“I- I swear I was- _I was just talking to him-”_

Lotor looked at his phone, before walking over to him, and crouching in front of him. He was on his knees, almost, and looked him in the eye. Concern was etched across his face as he asked, “Keith...are you okay?”

“What about the other victim- the one that Adam said the...the '98 just found today?”

And when Lotor just shook his head, Keith knew he was insane. “There was no suicide today, buddy.”

_Buddy_. That word stung.

“Do you want to check on the news, just in case?”

And Keith shook his head because he already looked stupid enough. Scrolling through articles on a news website that he knew wouldn’t be here would do nothing but aid his insanity case. 

Therefore, In answer instead, Keith abruptly stood up, evidently startling Lotor who almost fell over if not for the power of being Lotor. You said you found those files?”

Lotor nodded, standing up himself.

“Then we have no time to waste.” He sipped his cold, stale coffee, if not for anything else but the caffeine it would bring- the focus he knew he was lacking and need now more then ever. “Let’s go.”

* * *

CCTV recordings were never going to be ultra-high definition, but 140p black ad white was a nightmare to sit through.

Either way, these recordings would be able to reveal to him the secrets he needed to uncover, he wouldn’t even have to spend any more time worrying about who it was. He would be allowed to rest for a few days.

It was maybe hour 4...hour 5… when it happened.

The spot in which the victim had died in when they- Lotor, Lance, Hunk and him- had all been out- her name was Annie Everson - had been previously vacant, until now a figure walked into frame.

They were honestly not much else than a giant blob, wearing all black and a hoodie. Their face was turned from the camera, and Keith groaned in frustration. 

The figure didn’t seem to do much for at least 5 to 10 minutes, just pacing up and down, reaching into a pocket to text someone and continue to stare.

Keith narrowed his eyes. He knew that figure. Somehow. The mannerisms reminded him of someone- the head tilts, the shifts, the way they reached their hand into their pocket. It was all very familiar in a sickening, horrific way.

He began to shake slightly.

And then Annie appeared into the frame. Appearing so casually as if she was going to survive the encounter that awaits her.

How naive.

Annie had her face facing the screen so that Keith could just about make up the fact that she had large, large bags underneath her eyes. She was holding some sort of water bottle and she was angry, very angry, but she wasn’t really- she was just far too tired.

The other figure held up his hands and Keith noticed one of them moved slightly more robotically than the other.

He was shaking, uncontrollably now. “Turn it off.” He said 

Lotor did not respond.

Keith’s heart was racing. He looked down at his hands and saw how they were shaking too.

The figure handed something very small to Annie- which Keith realised a moment later was a pill of some sort, and Annie stared at him for a second, asked him some sort of a question, to which they nodded.

She took the pill.

And then it began.

The figure stopped, lifted his head up fully, stood and stared at Annie. He watched as she began to choke. 

For some reason, Keith didn’t want to watch this anymore. He couldn’t.

“Lotor, turn it off- it’s not relevant, it doesn’t matter!” 

“No- no.” He muttered. Lotor kept watching it. “No the answers are here- I’m sure of it.” 

Annie reached out a hand and looked up at the figure- clearly asking for some sort of help as she continued to choke. She gagged, and Keith watched with some numbness as she began to cry, of which he put it down to desensitisation as a result of years of working within the force.  
She eventually fell to the floor and gasped, desperate for some sort of breath. 

At last, after several more minutes of her pitifully begging for help, she was silent, and fell away, dead. 

The camera did not move and the figure continued to stand still. 

Lotor, muttering to himself “Turn around-turn around” had seemingly forgotten about Keith. 

Keith was terrified. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be.

The figure walked over to Annie and seemed to check her pulse. When they were satisfied, he took out a phone, dialed a number and had a short conversation. Keith wished he could have heard the audio but the sinking feeling growing within his stomach wouldn't have shrunk. He couldn’t believe it.

The figure finally took off his hood and turned around, still on the phone. He began to walk away, out of the frame.

Lotor gasped.

Keith couldn’t breathe.

It was Shiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	6. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith and lance work together. keith realises the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow what's this an update within a few weeks? She's evolving.  
Except she's NOT this took everything out of me

Waking up today was harder than expected. He was so drained from the night before, and the crushing realisation that there was only one name left on the list.

Shiro.

He thought he would never be able to sleep, at this point, relying on old, cheap coffee and sheer spite to keep him going. He had almost finished the box Shiro had bought a few weeks back, which was weird, since before this week he hardly ever drank it.

* * *

He didn’t go into work. 

There was no point. There was no other option but Shiro. 

His brother.

Everyone he had spoken to had spoken about Shiro. About a man with white hair who was always there- the details all linked together. 

His eyes were bloodshot. When was the last time he had slept? When had last done anything? When was the last time he had done anything worthwhile? He wasn’t worth anything.

He didn’t go out of his room. He couldn’t. 

His brother was a serial killer.

* * *

He was sitting at the table in the kitchen when Shiro walked in. 

He was tired, dressed for work but yawning still, and not fully registering Keith’s state. When he did, all the sleepiness vanished. 

“Keith- are you o-“

“we need to talk.”

Shiro didn’t seem surprised. _Of course. Adam must have warned him. _

Shiro nodded slowly “Keith, you haven’t been alright since that day in the hospital. What’s been going on. Talk to me, buddy.”

“What’s going on is that I know who’s been responsible for all the deaths these past few months. I’ve figured it out, Takashi.”

Is what he wanted to say. Of course, he didn’t say that. 

No, instead he just stared at his brother, and replied: “Sometimes you don’t know people like you thought you did.” 

* * *

Nothing felt okay.

He was given a second chance to save Lance- 6 days to do- and he blew it. 

How could he convict his own brother?

On the one hand, he’s a detective of the city -and it’s his _duty_ to help the city.

On the other hand- this was his _brother._

He was worthless.

And because of his worthlessness, Lance was going to die.

He blinked tiredly. 

There was no point.

* * *

Shiro had headed out to pick Adam up, and lotor visited Keith. 

Not the best comforter, he had sort of panicked when he was coming round, knowing that Allura would easily be able to find the perfect gift for her friend (god, he was lucky to have her) but he couldn’t exactly go up to her and be like lol hey you know your coworker? Turns out he’s a massive serial killer what are the chances of that? And whilst he would get him whiskey- because that’s like, the staple drink of mourning- he was all too aware that Keith had a shady past with addiction because of his teenage years- before he had met Shiro (though what it was exactly he didn’t know- didn’t think it was his place to know) so that option was clearly rendered redundant. 

As a result, in the bag he held out rather embarrassingly towards a very sleep deprived Keith contained brought with him a full $20 chocolate cake, some random red scarf that looked more expensive than a months rent at his apartment and...was that _coffee_?

Keith took it out of the bag. _Limited Edition_ coffee.

“I noticed you started drinking a lot and- and my parents know the guys who own the brand you keep drinking- from being- you know- so- I mean- yeah.” he fumbled, and seemed hesitant, which made Keith feel like even more of an asshole, so he grabbed it out of lotors hand- albeit slightly roughly. 

And Keith really must have meant something to Lotor then if he was getting into contact with his parents somewhat for _coffee_. “Thanks,” he mumbled, hoping lotor would understand how much his support meant to him- wishing he was better with words, more like Lance, more like his brother--

Christ- no. not more like his brother.

* * *

At some point, he must have drifted off, because Keith found himself waking up a few hours later, still exhausted but definitely not as much as before. He remembered distantly thanking Lotor before he had excused himself and left to go back to his own apartment. His mind was clearer now, he took the coffee Lotor had given him in one hand and his phone in the other moving towards the kitchen to taste how_ limited edition_ was priced, and whilst the teapot was boiling, he opened his phone.

And such is fate, a text from Lance came up:

_Hey! I haven’t managed to see you this week- you wanna come over for dinner? Nothing fancy, I’m just making one of Hunk’s recipe and I know Shiro’s going on a date night with Adam, and you definitely shouldn’t be cooking on ur own lmfao._

_Anyway come over at like 7 (idc what u say ur coming)_

_Unless u have something up omg then u dont need to obvi_

Keith couldn’t help but smile. 

Always thinking of others.

* * *

Grabbing his coat and keys, he finally came out of his room a few hours later to see Shiro was sitting with Adam, murmuring to one another. They both looked up when they saw Keith- concern growing in their eyes as they took note of his appearance, which was tired and dirty. 

Adam tried to speak. “Keith, is it alright if we speak to you for a second?” 

Keith ignored them- kept on walking. 

He saw Shiro and Adam share a look. “Keith I know you’re not okay. This past week you’ve been acting weird- the others- they spoke to me, they mentioned that you were asking them questions about the killings a lot-“

Traitors. 

“- and when Adam told me you had approached him the same way, it worried me, Keith.” 

“Can’t a guy work on his case in peace?” He finally mumbled, looking down, waiting for this conversation to be over so he could finally just go see Lance and maybe protect him from the next few days. Act as a bodyguard, perhaps. 

Shiro pursed his lips. “Keith you have to realise asking all of us means you...suspect one of us.”

He didn’t reply, and Shiro carried on. 

“Keith...do you think one of us are responsible for the suicides?”

He finally looked up, whirling around so he made immediate eye contact with his brother. Aware of his bloodshot eyes, tired appearance and bad attitude, he wasn’t surprised when Shiro’s eyes widened with surprise at the severity of his appearance. “They’re not suicides. And you know that. Why are you calling them what they’re not?”

Adam answers this time, slowly rising out of his seat. “Keith, are you oka-“

“I’m fine!” He snapped, “I’d be a lot better if you stopped pretending like you care about the city, about me, and left me alone!” He looked around wildly for his keys, and grabbing them, he made his way over to the door, breathing hard.

Now Shiro appeared and was trying to take the keys from him. “Keith, stay for a bit. You’re in no form to drive-“

Keith yanked himself off of Shiro and didn’t comment on the flash of hurt that etched its way into his brothers face. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything or anyone anymore. He was still about to watch one of his best friends die tomorrow, so what did it matter that he was irritable today? 

Opening the door, he muttered, “Don’t wait up.” Before slamming it behind him. 

What he didn’t see was Shiro and Adam standing in shocked silence, looking at one another with mutual understanding. 

They called Lance immediately and let him know what was going on.   
_

_Lotor, 06:06pm: How are you holding up_  
Keith, 06:09pm: pretty shit  
_Lotor, 06:10pm: im so sorry keith. Honestly._  
Keith, 06:10pm : yeah  
_Lotor, 06:10pm: : where are you right now? I don't want you alone with him if that’s okay with you_  
Keith, 06:11pm : lance invited me round. For dinner. I'm about to go now.  
Keith, 06:11pm : i told adam i wanted my bike back in case i got stuck somewhere dangerous when the buses aren't running and he caved.  
Keith, 06:11pm: which is really fucking dumb bc he hasnt got anything to worry about  
Keith, 06:11pm : being that his boyfriend- my fucking brother- is the “danger” he’s protecting me against  
Keith, 06:11pm : or maybe he really is just worried about me  
Keith, 06:11pm : maybe shiro doesn't care about the fact that im his brother  
Keith, 06:11pm: i mean he clealry doesnt bc hes a fucking serial killer apparently.

And he realised he was being unfair to lotor, realised that he was being a dick to the one person who was actually candid and helped him through this nightmare of a week but he didn't care- couldn't care less anymore. he was so fucking tired of this shit-show he wanted out and he wanted out now.

Lotor reply came a couple of minutes later, but by which point he had closed his phone and discarded it in his bag, alongside his wallet, keys, and a pair of grey sweats. Though lance had not explicitly stated he could sleep over, he’d be damned if he came home to him within the next few days.

Besides. To hell with Shiro. Lance was going to die tonight. 

And now that Keith knew who was going to kill him- Keith would die before he saw his brother kill his…

His —

* * *

Keith’s driving was similar to the day he got hit my that car. Manic, fast, uncontrollable and uncaring. He just wanted to be with Lance, protecting Lance, only with Lance. 

He quickly reached his friend's house and hopped off, reaching the apartment complex. Climbing the steps to his apartment, he realised Lance would most definitely call him out on his appearance, and tried to make himself look slightly more presentable, all to no avail. He stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and rang the bell.

Lance opened, but it wasn’t as Keith had expected.

Instead of the usual happy, light eyes, they were full of worry. Plus, he was on the phone. 

“He just got in. Yeah. I see what you mean.” Lance was saying. “No, I know. Okay- I’ll talk to you later. Yeah, thanks, Shiro.” 

Lance was talking to Shiro?

Lance put down the phone and looked at him, still worried and hurt. “Keith, what have you done to yourself, huh?”

It was like something had broken a lock which covered all the emotion he had been bottling up inside. 

Quickly and easily, he found fat tears spilling from his eyes.

Great.

* * *

30 minutes later they found themselves sat on the large blue couch in the centre of Lance’s living room

“I know emotions aren’t as easy as they are for you as they are for me.” Lance was saying. “But this is us, dude, you don’t need to hide things from me. Whatever’s going on- I’m here for you no matter what.”

Keith was still staring at the point in the wall.

What’s the point in hiding, he thought.

“You’re gonna die tonight and it’s my fault.” 

Lance blinked. “**_What_**?”

* * *

It took 22 minutes exactly for Keith to explain. He only paused to take breaths. Lance did not ask any questions. 

Once he was finished, Keith braced himself, looking at his feet.

He was entirely sure that Lance would pull a face and create some form of an exaggerated lie to get away from him long enough so that Shiro- a killer- someone who killed Lance in another reality- would come and collect him. He braces himself for the tutting, the sympathetic grimaces, he braced himself for it all. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.” 

Keith’s eyes shot up. 

“You- I- I was gonna die in two days and you didn’t _Tell Me!_?” Lance screeched. But somehow- there was no heat behind his words. 

“You believe me?” 

Lance pulled an incredulous look. “Yes!?”

He stood up suddenly and walked over to his desk and pulled up his now-infamous battered brown notebook. 

“So- after I died- you found my book— this book?” And that’s how you figured out it was someone in the precinct.”

Keith nodded, his hands shaking slightly. He had a growing headache that was making his concentration awful which he honestly should have been getting used to at this point. 

“Keith?”

He looked up- he had been looking down?- from the floor. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Oh.” he looked at his hands, saw that they were shaking even more. 

Why was this feeling familiar to him?

“Keith- maybe we should sit down?” Lance had apparently stood up at this point and was trying to get Keith to come over to the bed instead of leaning over his chest of draws.  
“I think- I’m going- I-” he let himself be led towards the bed, crashing down onto it once he managed to reach it. He looked up at Lance who had worry written across his face.

Keith was well aware of this feeling.

It followed him throughout most of his teenage years and did something else.

The horrifying, mortifying feeling of withdrawal.

He voiced his thoughts, and it was safe to say Lance looked rather alarmed. “You’re using again?”

But Keith shook his head- because he _wasn’t_\- he had been clean for almost a decade now- there’s no way that he was---

Lance tried a new tactic. “Have you had anything- anything at all which would make you react like this?”

“No- I don’t- I don’t think- I just. I just really need coffee. Fuck I should have brought it with me.”

Lance drank up the sight in front of him but didn’t comment on it. He murmured be right back before quickly getting up and going to the kitchen briefly and coming back with some coffee- Arlag coffee, yes.

“Shiro gave this to me last week.” He said slowly. It was clear the fears in his breaking were working as hard as possible. “If what you’re saying is true- that Shiro is the killer and is the one who’s going to-” he grimaced. “-kill me, then he wouldn’t be giving me gifts left and right.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. What did this have to do with coffee? “I’d hardly call it a sentimental gift. It’s coffee.” And he wanted it.

As an answer, Lance turned towards a page in his notebook. In it, Keith was surprised to find a large double-page spread on Arlag coffee company, with directions to the warehouse, and properties of who’s drinking there and their connections to the deaths.

Keith didn’t know what to say. He stared dumbfounded at Lance to explain, blinking black dots away from his eyes as he continued to struggle to focus.

“Everyone who died- everyone who was murdered recently-- they all have reports or videos, or photographs, or receipts, of them drinking this coffee brand.”

And _Keith_ thought he was going crazy. “It’s a very popular coffee brand, dude.” 

Lance didn’t seem fazed and continued. “But you only started drinking it last week-”

“-to keep me awake after I thought you were going to die -not because I wanted to _drink_ it- like I do now- give it here.” 

Lance moved his hand so that Keith could no longer reach it without standing up. “-You’re not understanding, Keith!”He blinked down and frowned. “Look at the way you’re acting!”

“What?”

“Why do you want this coffee so bad? What if it was finished and I got a different brand?”

And for whatever reason, this was really, _really_ starting to irritate him. “I don’t- why would I care about another brand-You have this one- give it here-”

“No.”

Keith blanched. “What?”

"You're treating the coffee like it's a drug!" Lance stopped. He seemed lost in his own thoughts and Keith was about to question what the hell he was doing when Lance mumbled.

"There’s like a drug- or something."

Keith looked at his very clearly insane friend. “You think Arlag have been _drugging_ me?”

“You don’t?”

There was something about Lance's voice that stopped Keith from retorting... and think for a second. He thought back to his last week, then...then yeah he could see that he had been acting differently. Focused on only one thing and one thing only- saving lance- that he forgot about everyone and everything else. Being rude to people that used to be his close friends, assuming the worst of everyone- being irritable- restless- having awful self-worth, steadily getting worse and worse and the days move on. He knew these symptoms- lived these symptoms- how-- how-- 

_So he was being drugged?_

But what on earth did that have to do with this- have to do with _Lance_?

Keith blew out a puff of defeated air. “They were drugging me.” He stopped. Thought. "And they were probably drugging Shiro too.”

Lances expression hardened, and he nodded grimly. “So he's innocent?"

Keith wanted so desperately to nod and say that Huzzah! The case has been solved! He has now figured out that his brother was a victim of mind control- but even in his weird drugged up mind he knew, that sounded ridiculous. "Potentially" He decided to say after a pause. This was a safe answer- didn't allow him to hope too much.

"But then, why didn’t you turn into..him..?”

“Maybe it takes longer?" Keith replied. "I only started drinking this week and don’t get me wrong I’ve been an ass- my concentrations fuzzy, I'm tired and I’m angry all the time- I’m irritable- but Shiro started drinking the coffee ages ago- you remember Allura got him that whole stack of coffee for his birthday?”

“But that could mean that they- the coffee company I mean- wanted you to become like him.”

“And there are probably more of him out there-“

“-So it’s not just Shiro!” they said simultaneously. 

“If we’re going to find out the truth- the whole truth- we need to go to its source.” He picked up the unopened box of Arlag Coffee and inspected it softly. “And somehow, these people are the source. They have the answer to whatever the hell is going on in this city and why they’re drugging their customers. They have the answer. ” 

“Shiro could be innocent- a victim here.” 

“But that would mean that a coffee company wants people to kill them. Why on earth would that be happening?” 

Lance shook his head softly. “I don’t know. I wish I did.” 

“Then why don’t we find out?” 

“What?” he spluttered

“Why don’t we go? Clearly this whole thing bigger then we could ever have anticipated and clearly we can’t trust anyone else- I mean- look at Shiro!” he stops “he didn’t do anything wrong- he’s a victim here- but he’s also not quite himself right now.”

“Because-- because it’s dangerous!”

“Isn’t that why we signed up for the job in the first place?”

Lance turned to Keith, who was looking back at him, clearly exhausted, determination, however, splashed across his face. Keith nodded at him. “This is insane.”

“Maybe.” said Keith, “But it’s also the right thing to do.”

Lance nodded. “So we’re doing this- we’re going to go found out why-- why people have been dying--we’re going to find out the answer.”

Keith grinned. “It’s Hidden in plain sight.” 

* * *

“If we’re gonna do this, we can’t go whilst I’m like this.” 

Lance looked up from the bag he was packing- only the essentials- which included his ID, his phone and of course, a small gun and silencer. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-“ Keith started, crossing over into the other part of the room where his own ID lay. “I haven’t had coffee at all today and I can already feel myself going into withdrawal. I need raspberries. They always worked- made the nausea go away at least.” He assessed his current situation. “And maybe a fish.”

Lance raised his eyebrows. “I have neither.”

“How?!”

“They’re expensive, dude. You’re forgetting I live alone and I don’t have blood money on my hands.”

“Shiro’s military earnings aren’t blood money-”

“Please. He called it that himself.”

And once again he found himself giggling- giggling- at a time like this. Lance just had that effect on him- the small back and forth- the bickering made for easy conversation and a relaxed atmosphere- no matter what was going on outside of them. Even so, he carried on.

Lance finished packing his bag and stood up. “There’s a Walmart like 10 minutes away. I’ll pick one up some raspberries and meet you back here.

“Take my bike- it’s faster.” 

Lance grinned. “Oh if Hunk finds out he’s gonna KILL ME.”

Keith squawked- because dude time and place- but Lance’s cackle could be heard as he exited the door, Keith’s keys in tow.

Left smiling slightly, Keith once more examined the book Lance left.

His writing- surprisingly messy compared to his normal delicate calligraphy, was rushed and sloppy. It was clear that most of these notations had been made in one sitting, likely in the middle of the night. There were arrows pointing at the middle of the image of a warehouse Lance had labelled as “Arlag”, with various different comments- most of the initials and a date.

He got out his phone and searched up the name of the most recent suicide and the date she died. Sure enough, Altean Daily was breaking the news story that there was another suicide 24-year-old Annie Everson had just graduated after majoring in French and English and seemingly happy and healthy- no reason for her to take her own life. 

At the bottom of the article, it listed the suicide prevention hotline.  
Sure enough, the name A.E and the date were scrawled in red pen on an arrow pointing to the warehouse.

Keith still couldn’t believe what this meant. Essentially, Lance’s big conspiracy was that the coffee company were doing something to its consumers to make them do...something...r what- they would die?

Why does a coffee company want to kill its consumers?

His eyes flickered over to one initial particular that he didn't recognise from his own extensive research this past week. 

M.H. 10.10.2018. 

He narrowed his eyes. 

He got his phone and typed the date first before the first initial. Sure enough, Google did the rest of the work for him, suggesting a news article.

_ **“Rising new detective officially declared missing** _

_29 year old Matthew Holt disappeared sometime last week whilst working on a new case that has been declared classified by the Federal Bureau of Investigation._

_Described as a “rising star” by his professors at the prestigious Galaxy Garrison University, the new detective was working alongside top detectives working to keep the city of Altea safe. He was reportedly last seen wearing black jeans and a large brown overcoat whilst entering a building near the end of town at around 1 in the morning. It is not believed that he was carrying any weapons at the time of his disappearance, nor that he was travelling with another person. However, police are reporting that it is unlikely that this was consensual or deliberate disappearance. _

_ At the time of this writing, we are unable to provide any other details._

_If you have any information, please anonymously contact 1-800-XXX-XXXX _

_Our thoughts and prayers are with his family."_

Keith started.

What had he got to do with the case?

The other names had the date of their death- this was a disappearance article-

Pidge’s brother.

The smiling photo they had attached showed him and a bunch of other detectives- some Keith recognised. There was Coran, Allura, Lotor --and Shiro.

Shiro had never once mentioned anything about Matt.

When Keith finished college and moved to Altea to be with his brother- that was sometime in the beginning of 2018- so after Matt’s disappearance, but even so, relatively new?

Why had no-one spoken about it before?

He looked at the other dates of the victims and found that sure enough, a lot of the dates were from a while ago- a few months after Matt but 2018 none-the-less. 

Why had no-one spoken to him about it?

This didn’t make any sense.

But if Shiro was out here killing all these people from 2018, there’s no way that he wouldn’t have been found out..right?

And if the coffee was controlling him- that would mean that he started drinking the coffee years ago.

That in itself didn't make any sense- Shiro only started drinking coffee this year- he remembered his brother complaining about how tired he had been getting recently and how Hunk- who ground his own coffee beans because of course he did- recommended instant coffee.

His birthday which was two weeks later, so all of the precincts burying him various different brands.

_“Lotor wanted to give this to you, Shiro.” Allura had said, smiling down at him. “I’m more of a tea person myself but he heard that you wanted to start trying and bullied me into buying this. He says it’s the best of the best- they don’t even have it out in stores yet it’s so exclusive” _

_Shiro had beamed at her, surrounded by various other coffee. “I guess I’ll have to try that one out first- being that its limited edition and all.”_

It was a punch to the gut.

Limited edition coffee.

He scrambled for his phone-opened it.

Matt was smiling back at him, alongside Allura, Coran, Shiro---

No.

And perhaps, dear reader, if he hadn’t have been having an epiphany, he would have heard the figure come into Lances room. 

He realised far too late what’s going on. He didn’t have time to reach for his phone.

“Well.” The Killer remarked. They almost sounded amused.

Keith looks up. He’s still facing the wall but he knows- he knows. 

He hears the gun cock. 

“This is a pleasant surprise.”

Lotor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok dont hate me but also how did you not see the clues?


	7. Beware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have once again updated the chapter count but I think ???? it's gonna stick at 10 chapters now. Maybe.

“Well,” Lotor remarked. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Keith turned, reaching instinctively for his weapon but stopped when Lotor said: “Reach for your gun and I’ll blow your brains out.”

Keith could barely breathe._ This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening._

“Turn around, place your gun on the ground slowly and kick it over to me.”

Keith stared at Lotor. He was rugged, slight stubble, silver hair tied up in a ponytail. But the gentle eyes he once had were replaced with unseeing, uncaring ones- apathetic and cold. They bore into Keith and his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. The gun Lotor was holding was trained on him and Keith could tell he wouldn’t have any hesitation in pulling the trigger.

Keith took the gun out from beside him and slowly placed it down, kicking it over to him. 

He swallowed. “Why are you doing this.”

“I don’t need to explain anything to you.”

Keith couldn’t say anything, couldn’t breathe. How had this happened? 

He thought he had done everything right, he thought the answer was right in front of him, how was it not? 

“I was hoping to catch your friend, Lance.” Lotor said, as if making casual conversation. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he was, do you?” 

Keith didn’t reply. Couldn’t. He felt like he had lost the ability to make noise. Nothing was coming out. He was completely silent.

Lotor ignored him, continued to monologue. “Hm. I suppose you’re not feeling very talkative, are you?” His British accent made anything he said all the more harsh, the mocking tone rich with superiority and power. “Honestly, I was hoping I was going to get a chance to stop by and chat with you, although I had thought it would be after I finished up with Lance.”

“You mean after you murdered him.” He choked out.

“Is that what you’re calling it?” The other man replied. When he could see he wouldn’t be answered once more, he carried on. “Yes, I suppose so. Although I am seriously intrigued as to how you figured out the next...victim… would be your friend. What was that all about?”

Keith, eyes still on the gun, muttered: “I’m a good detective.”

“A decent one, perhaps. But if you were truly good, you would have been able to stop this, stop me. Instead, you wallowed around for a week and now, well, you know I can’t possibly allow you to live knowing the truth, can I?”

Keith said nothing. He kept thinking how long it had been since Lance left to get meds.. Hunk was seeing his girlfriend afterwards, only dropping Lance off. Which meant if Keith didn’t stop Lotor, he would be by able to his attack. 

“You- you were my friend.”

Lotor laughed. “No.” he turned his head. “I could never stand you. I needed to keep my eye on you, _especially_ after you willingly and, without any prompting whatsoever, gave yourself away like that.”

Keith slowly pried his eyes up from the barrel of the gun and towards Lotors face. “Lance doesn’t have to get involved.”

“Doesn’t he?” Lotor said, a frosty smile climbing its way across his face. “Keith, I wish I could believe you- but I can't. You see,” He closed the door behind him and locked it, turning his head away from Keith for a second and, in that moment Keith was able to grab his phone, press what he hoped was the right button, and stuff it into his pocket. “Whilst you may think of yourself as a...what was the word you used..'' good detective..?.”.. Lance was better.”

He paused. “So much better, in fact, that as I’m sure you can see, he, unfortunately, was rather close to figuring out how I was- too close.” He pointed with the gun lazily onto the notebook.   
“Yes,” he continued. “It seems my own sloppiness is going to cost the lives of two people who my love seems to like, but alas, that just means she will look to me for more comfort. You should see how she reacts to the deaths...so full of despair, so very sad. I wonder what she would do if she knew?”

Keith’s cheeks burned. Allura was all caught up in this, just like lance had been. She didn’t deserve this at all.

“What about London?”

At this, Lotor looked genuinely surprised. “For such a good detective you really don’t know what you’re doing, do you, dear?” He cracked a grin. “I was never in London, Keith. These things take time to plan and I just needed to make sure no one would disturb me. The original plan was to stop much before, come back to “support her”, and then, whilst she’s upset and needing comfort, I propose. But after Lance figured it out I realised I would have to make sure he was disposed off before I could stop this madness.” He stopped, and his tone turned almost sympathetic, though it was dripping with cruel undertones. “You never had to die, Keith. It was your own idiotic self sacrificing self You did this to_ yourself_.” 

Lotor raised the gun. Keith closed his eyes. 

Then-

The sound of a door unlocking, and opening. Lance's voice flowed into the room, severing the tension placed between Lotor and Keith. “Keeeeeeeeeeiiiiiith, guess who has the fooooooood.”

Lotor didn’t even blink. He didn’t lower the gun, either.

“Keith?” Lance's voice came again. “Where are you buddy?”

“Well,” said Lotor. “Tell him.”

Keith didn’t want to. This couldn’t be happening. Lance was going to get hurt- he had to do something. 

But he was paralysed. 

“**I’m not going to ask you again, Keith**,” Lotor said. “Tell Lance that you’re here. And you even think of telling him I’m here and I will make you watch him die.”

Keith swallowed, eyes on the gun. “I’m in your room, Lance.”

“What- still?” He could hear Lances voice getting louder- Keith felt the bile rise in his throat. 

_No no no_.

“Keith? You okay?” Lance opened the door, met eye contact with Keith who was standing at the end of the room. He didn’t see Lotor.

He stepped closer. “Keith what are you looki-“

Lance sucked in a breath. He felt his stomach drop. Keith saw his face pale and expression hardened. He knew that Lance was piecing all the information together, knew what was going on. Not like Keith, who needed everything to be explained to him. 

Lotor wasn’t even looking at him, the gun still trained on Keith. He seemed amused, and not at all worried.

“Let him go, Lotor.” 

Lotor smiled, still not turning his gaze from Keith. “No..I don’t think I will. But thank you for your valiant effort. Now,” he said, “Why don’t you come join your friend over there?”

At this, Keith finally turned to where Lance was. “_Run_, I’ll be okay- it’ll be okay-“

The deafening sound of a gun popping severed the rest of what he was going to say. Lance had yelled and Keith could only tense up, awaiting his fate, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself unharmed, shaking, the bullet maybe a couple millimetres from his head, in the pin board next to him. The heat was intense, and he could barely hear anything from the blood pounding in his ears. It was clear Lotor missed on purpose.

A warning shot.

“I thought I told you not to speak, Kogane?” Said Lotor. He sounded bored. Lance was staring murder at Lotor.

“You only told me not to tell him you weren’t here when he first came into his apartment.” Keith replied. His voice wasn’t shaking but he was sure the other two could tell how freaked out he was. 

“Watch your tongue.”

“What are you even planning on doing, anyway?” Keith began. “Kill us here? You think anyone will believe we both just disappeared?” 

Lotor hummed. “I suppose not. Honestly if it were just Keith on its own, I don’t think anyone would question it. But you’re right about Lance.”

He didn’t reply. Turning his head towards Lance who was now next to him, he saw the fear but determination present within his electric blue eyes. He looked at Lances hands and saw he was tapping, very gently, on his legs. So gentle that you could barely see it- but Keith could make out his hand tapping his leg, stopping, then his hand tapping again with one less finger. 5...4….

The message was clear.

He turned to Lotor and began talking. “You’re wrong. I’m not that person anymore. You- you tried to make me into that person again because you _knew_ I wouldn’t be able to find out the truth if I was like I used to be. Drugging me- drugging Shiro- it won’t work anymore.” He scrambled for something to say. “And if you take us- hurt us- my friends will come for us. My brother will find you. And Allura...Allura will _never_ love you.” 

And before Lotor could react, eyes barely able to widen in anger, Lance had tackled him to the ground. Keith immediately went to grab the gun he had kicked away and tried to cock it but Lotor leapt up at him causing them to crash down onto the ground. Still incredibly dizzy from what he now knew to be the drugs, he could feel his body unable to allow him the same quick response time as he had been used to. Even so, with what little strength he had, through blurry eyesight, he grabbed onto silver hair and _pulled_, and much to his delight, Lotor let out an enraged screech before attempting to hit him back. Lance, however, stopped that from happening as he pulled the arm Lotor had laid outback and was gripping it tightly. However, in his victory, Lotor made quick work of letting a ferocious cry, grabbing Keith with his other arm and hitting him against the chest of drawers with such force Keith immediately crumpled to the ground. 

The whole thing was so quick Lance barely had time to cry out Keith’s name before Lotor elbowed him, winding him and striking whilst he was down. He grabbed Lance’s throat, lifting him up and watching his prey slowly gasp for more breath that he wouldn’t allow him to have. 

The audacity of some people, honestly.

“Did you think you would get out of this?” he snarled, continuing to lift Lance up off the ground, hand getting tighter and tighter as he watched the other boy writhe for air, kicking his legs uselessly. There was blood dripping lazily down his right arm and Lotor watched with fascination as Lance grew weaker and weaker.

Lotor brought him lower to the ground so that he could whisper in his ear, still not for one second lessening the grip on his throat. Lance’s eyes were fluttering, his body screaming for air, glorious air, of which Lotor would not give him. Not yet, anyway. 

“Now. Why don’t we have a little fun?” he murmured. 

Lance just had enough time for his eyes to widen in fear before darkness overcame him.

* * *

Coran was a smart man.

Smart enough to be promoted to Captain of the 9th precinct of Altea at only 43. And he loved that position, working intimately with his detectives and striving for a safer community. 

This was not his idea of a safe community.

Perhaps he knew, deep down, that some of his detectives knew more than they let on. 

So when he got the notification that there had been reports of a gun going off in Lance’s apartment whilst he and his husband Alfor were watching TV- when the night squad busted in (with the rest of the day squad hot on their heels sans Shiro and Adam who were given a direct order by Coran not to come) and they saw the overturned books, the broken glass scattered around the room- the rope- all of them stood there, dumb and terrified- Coran knew this had gone too far.

“Who could have done this?” Hunk asked brokenly.

Hurt Lance and Keith? It made little sense.

The night squad were busy taping areas off to be looked at through forensics. They didn’t mind Captain Coran’s squad silently making their own judgements through looking at the evidence.

The room was messy. Coran knew Lance- knew that he was a stickler for a few things and one of them was keeping things clean “so it’s easier to find”.

And yet, as Coran started, he took in how there had obviously been some sort of brawl, some sort of fight- broken glass littered the floor, food cartoons were spilled and raspberries lay fallen next to Lance’s rucksack which was filled with a notebook, a gun, and other questions.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and Coran briefly registered Allura’s frantic voice that was muffled yet clearly demanding to be let into the house, before Pidge had opened the door for her. In with her, she brought Lotor, who too looked worried.

“We heard about what happened.” She began. “Lance- Keith- are they--”

“They’re gone.” Hunk filled in for her and she let out a gasp of pain.

Lotor turned his head to where the night detectives were working. “Please-” he began, “There must be some way we can help- we have to help them-.”

It seemed he could not go any further. He and Allura held each other for a while, both blind with grief much like the rest of them.

They worked mostly in silence, until about 20 minutes passed and Lotor suddenly cut through their stillness with a whispered “No way.”

They all turned to where he was standing- craning their heads to have a better look at what he was focusing on, on the floor. 

A small silver gun.

_Keith’s_ gun.

Positioned in- yes, now that he made sure of it- positioned in the correct angle for it to hit the area of the wall shot at.

“I knew it.” muttered Lotor, seemingly to himself. If he noticed the other people, he didn't say You know what this means- right?

Lotor, seeing that no one else had pieced the information together, turned to Coran. “Captain- look at the evidence.” He broke off from Allura and bent down, gesturing to a small black bag-- Coran sucked in an icy breath. 

Keith’s biker helmet

“Why is Keith’s helmet here?” Lotor’s voice may have been professional but it was dripping in ice. 

“He- he was spending the night with Lance- Lance invited him over-”

“And he drove himself.”

Hunk nodded.

“Keith gets involved in an accident not even a week ago, and now he’s driving around town with his bike?”

“No- I mean- yes- but it was just a sprain-.”

“Hold on.” Pidge’s voice cut in. “I thought you said it was broken?” They looked accusingly towards Lotor, who looked just as surprised.

“You must understand, I only said that because that’s what Keith kept insisting-”

Hunk furrowed his eyebrows. “He- what?”

“If Keith was lying about the arm…” Lotor muttered slowly, again as if noting it to himself rather than the audience he had so clearly captivated. “Well. I mean. What if he was lying about other things as well?”

The others stared, bemused- but Pidge’s expression hardened. “How _dare_ you even accuse-”

“Oh but I’m not accusing, Detective. Keith- someone we all know has struggled with addiction in the past- who- as I’m sure all of you can attest to this- has been acting extra strange all week- taking people off in the corners and interrogating them about the- what did he call it?- killer?- responsible for the suicides-”

“I thought we all knew that they weren’t suicides.” Allura’s voice interrupted.

And Coran took note of the flare of anger that built its way onto Lotor’s perfectly manicured face, before disappearing a second later. “But there’s no confirmation- dear-”

“What are you trying to say, then?” Hunk said. “That- that Keith is... lying to us?”

“What has that got to do with anything, anyway?” cut in Pidge, who at this point had turned their back on the others, and stood, seemingly engrossed in something on the floor by chest of drawers.

“I think it’s more than just that.” He picked up the gun that was laid on the floor- the weapon used to fire the shot- Keith’s gun.

“I think.” he began slowly. “I think the facts are in front of us- I think the facts have always been in front of us- but we weren’t able to realise them till now. The sketchy texts, the delusions, the interrogations...it’s similar to when he was...well...you know.”

The unspoken words fell heavy on the silence permeating around him. The others weren’t stupid- they knew Keith’s past with addiction, even though none had known him at that time. 

Hunk thought back to his own conversation with Lance.

_“Lance,” _he had begun slowly._ “There’s something I need to tell you.”_

_Lance’s expression instantly lost its humorous undertones, recognising Hunk’s serious tone._

_“What’s up- everything okay?”_

_Hunk shifted a little. “I don’t really know how else to say this...but I think Keith’s using again.”_

_Lance took in a breath. “Why.”_

_And Hunk explained to him- the weird attitudes, the aversion to conversation- the interrogation- the accident itself which Keith had insisted was just that- an “accident”, but he had been riding now for almost 10 years and only ever crashed in his earlier years whilst high on something. No accidents since he went clean._

And now, thinking about it more, Hunk couldn’t believe he hadn’t spoken up.

His friend may have just hurt his other friend- and it would be all his fault.

“I think we know who the killer is- we’ve known it all along,” Lotor said, not looking up- eyes still focused on the gun. “And Lance- poor, innocent Lance- realised this, before us- and when he found out, he reacted in such a rage and now...well now they're gone. The killer... the killer was hidden in plain sight.”

Hunk choked on a breath. “It’s Keith.” 

* * *

They wake up, tied and in a random room.

Lance let out a mighty groan before complying to the herculean task of opening his eyes, all to find Keith was staring at him. 

Keith raised an eyebrow. His hands were tied to the wall in a strange handcuff-like material, except it was purple and seemed to glow slightly.

It didn’t take long for him to remember what was going on. As Keith watched on, he saw realisation become apparent within Lance’s eyes before letting out yet another grand groan.

“Well.” Keith starts. “You did say we needed to go to the source.”

And Lance, despite everything, laughed. It was bitter and laced with fear- but he laughed. “You’re right. I should probably thank lotor, to be honest. At least now I don't have to spend money on gas.” 

They giggled quietly to themselves, delirious from the adrenaline pumping its way through their bodies, hatred coursing through their veins. 

“How long do you think we were out?” Lance asked. His voice was hoarse. From the strangulation, of course.

“I don’t know for sure.” Keith shifted uncomfortably, taking in the sight of Lance’s throat, which was purple and red, with ugly red blotches covering it. Worst of all, there were four little cuts deep in Lance’s neck, in the shape of what Keith knew to be nails. 

Lance couldn’t even rub at the throbbing pain in his neck because of the chains holding his arms back. Instead, he decided to focus on something he could focus on. Whilst drinking up the current atmosphere they were in, he took note of how aware Keith seemed far more aware than the past week. The whole week had been a bit of a trainwreck, and Lance didn't fail to notice Keith became more and more unbalanced.

“How are you holding up?”

Keith understood. Like always, Keith didn't have to ask for clarification. He just knew. “Better. Actually sleeping for once cleared my head more than I thought it would. And seeing you- talking to you- I feel like my old self.”

Lance cracked a grin. “They say my powers of seduction are mighty.”

Keith scoffed. “If I wasn't tied up right now I would have punched you in the face.”

“Ooooh you should know that would probably turn me on.” crooned Lance.

Keith was about to let out a retort when the grey door opened with a groan. In walks in two men- or Keith assumed they were men- they were dressed head to toe in purple uniforms that covered their faces. 

Lance and Keith didn’t say anything, their previous conversation completely forgotten. 

Even the purple-peopled voices were distorted as they spoke to one another. They seemed to be comparing notes on something, looking back and forth between both men on the opposite side of each room and Keith felt a sick uneasiness begin to settle into his stomach as they finally seemed to reach a decision and landed their stares on Lance. “You.” they muttered. 

Lance’s eyes grew wide. 

Keith wanted to murder them.

They began walking over to Lance and Keith, not thinking- yelled out “Stop!”

They paid no interest.

Lance had begun yanking at his chains- to no avail- wriggling out of their grips whilst Keith continued to yell from the other side. Instead, Lance- perhaps involuntarily- was muttering weak pleas to them, ”Hey- we don’t need to do that- I don’t- you-”.

They were unlocking his cuffs to the wall but not to each arm. 

“Don’t!” Keith struggled against the metal. “Leave him alone!” 

Lance immediately tried to fight them both, but having just been suffocated into unconsciousness and tied up for who knows how long- he was no match for their rough hands seizing each of his feet, flipping him over and letting his head smash onto the floor, leaving him dazed and momentarily halting his attempts at escape. 

But this was all that they needed as they began to drag Lance away, who eventually began screeching and twisting again - struggling fruitlessly in their arms. Keith could do nothing but watch on in horror and scream his friend’s name- his… his--

Finally, they met eyes and the fear that was washing over Lance’s face injected itself into Keith, bubbling into poison wrapping its way around Keith’s heart. “Keith-”

Keith struggled harder. “Take me! Fucking bastards- I’m the one you want- leave him out of this-”

They made no mind. Keith was yelling- his voice hoarse, his actions rabid and vicious as he tried unsuccessfully to tear himself away from the bonds.

“You’ll be okay- Lance you’ll be-”

The door shut behind him with a clang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> worldstar


	8. Behave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lance meets someone new, and pidge makes a discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love u guys so so so much, sorry for the long wait

Finding out that you died in an alternate reality at the hands of a serial killer is, as Lance would later tell Hunk and Pidge, not a very fun revelation. 

It was even less fun to find yourself dragged by the feet (the ?? FEET) through the hallways of a secret base that he could only assume was the homeland for evil druggy coffee (which was a whole other mess he still didn’t understand) knowing that you were, according to your cr- Keith- , supposed to _die_ today. 

All in all, not a great feeling. 

As Lance found himself thrust into a new room, before he could even get up and at least pretend to fight for the sake of his dignity alone, the two purple men (or women- Women can be monsters too!) grabbed an arm each and with strength that Lance was almost certain wasn’t human, threw him into a chair. 

He didn’t remember much after that. He fought back, of course, he did, and apparently they hadn’t been expecting him to continue to not want to die because they had to fumble for a while before producing a device that forced him into unconsciousness _again_.

And, when he finally woke up, he was on a slanting table thingy that was sitting next to a desk straight out of a movie, filled with various different devices surely used to inflict pain on people (god where was Sargent Allura and her weirdly extensive knowledge on torture devices when you needed it.)

Lance huffed, (and even doing that hurt his neck but he would never admit it).

He hoped Keith was okay.

It filled him with incomprehensible rage that Lotor had somehow been drugging someone who was a recovering addict and if Lance knew anything as a result of watching every cop dramas ever made, Lotor was probably blaming Keith for their impromptu disappearance from his apartment.

Bastard.

He wriggled slightly on the table. Now that his inner-monologue had finished, he could feel the fear begin washing its way through his body. He was, for whatever reason, strapped to a table in the middle of a coffee shop companies factory warehouse, having just uncovered a Ponzi scheme in which said the coffee company was, for some reason, attempting to drug its recipients. 

But why? 

He had, of course, noticed when Keith had been acting antsy. Though perhaps not as smart as Pidge (They were still a mystery to him. a terrifying, very small mystery.) he was perceptive and he was a damn good detective- and he _knew_ that Keith was going through something- but he hadn’t expected it to be evil coffee that controls you. 

Of course, he had thought that something was going on. 

That damned notebook. He knew he should have gone to someone, but honestly? He didn’t know who he could trust. 

The obvious choice had been Shiro- but his notes had been directed against him, and Keith being his brother was therefore automatically out of the equation. 

Pidge was terrifying, and besides, they were clearly on some sort of their own journey to do something, so he left it alone. 

Allura and Coran were too high up. He didn’t know how but this whole thing was going but he didn’t think he could trust them. 

So he had told Hunk. 

His best friend since high school, they had shared almost everything together. add to this. 

So when Hunk had sat him down and told him that he was worried about Keith- he immediately knew it was time to consult the book.

And add to this. something about asking Keith to hang out as an excuse to see him and also to find out what was going on. 

he hadn’t expected it to be _this_. 

The door creaked open, and a lady walked in. She had sharp worn-out features and long sickly lavender hair, but that wasn’t what was terrifying about her- it was her eyes.

they were _yellow_. 

Completely void of emotion, she and her face tattoos on the sides of her cheekbones radiated power and confidence as she walked slowly into the room, the door shutting behind her. 

She didn’t say anything for a short while, only moving to observe Lance like he was a new fine wine. 

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Lance McClain.”

His insides turned to ice and he felt himself pale. “How the -how the hell do you—“

“I like knowing about who my experiments interact with, and who might be a threat.” she cupped his face with her bony hands, long coffin shaped nails only slightly digging into his cheeks. “And you,” she mused. “you’ve been a pain in my side for quite some time.”

“I suppose you’re looking for answers.” She let go of his face and he strained to look at where she was going. “It really is very simple. All my husband and I ever wanted was peace. The problem with _humanity_,” she said the word as if it was laced with poison. “Is that people are greedy, heartless and disappointing at their core. They don’t care about real values- real lives.” She paused and wet her lips. “My husband and I realised it was our duty as scientists to harness the knowledge we had learnt and use it to create something new that would...ensure peace. Yes,  
we realised that we needed to create a new humanity, a new race wherein everyone is pliant, everyone does what they should, and everyone is peaceful.”

“By mind-controlling them?”

“Maybe. Does it matter, really? If it ensures no more war, no more hatred, we can wipe out those who disagree with us- those who are violent or deviant- and soon only the elite will remain- the chosen few destined to bring about a new generation of happiness and solidarity- isn’t that a good thing?”

“You- you can’t be serious- you can’t kill people for peace!”

“That was never the plan. experiments are to inject quintessence like its part of their everyday routine- like it’s their morning coffee. eventually, they succumb to its forces and are liberated into a new humanity. Sometimes it does not work, in which the quintessence does not immediately attach itself to the figure itself. 

“There are, of course, other ways of making experiments pliant. It takes time, and is far more painful for the experiments, but it can act as a very good de stresser for our workers.”

And then, just as quickly as she ended her sentence Lance was aware of nothing but pain- burning up into him as he screamed out in agony. He couldn’t see- the pain was hot- hot - too hot- he was being burnt alive, he was being lit on fire, he was going to _die_—-

it stopped.

He gasped for breath. Blinking quickly he let out a pitiful moan and tried to look back at the women- eyes not focusing properly.

“I noticed that you opted out of drinking our products. You’re welcome to start.” She stared at him, something akin to a smile etching its way onto her face.

In retaliation, Lance swore and jerked at his restraints.

“Very well.” She pressed down once more, and Lance only felt pain.

* * *

He came too after his face hit the ground off,as he would come to realise a new, third room. Dazed, before he could pull himself up from the floor the two guards shut the door with just as much force as they always did. Lance was certain they were doing it for nothing more than dramatic effect at this point.

Still, once he realised he was on the dirty floor, mixed in with tears, sweat, dirt and blood, he clawed his way off the ground into a sitting position. He yelled out in pain after the dull throbbing in his waist exploded into daggers stabbing him from the inside out, and fell to the floor once more. Biting back tears he reached out his hands and, with what little strength he had left, shimmied over to a nearby wall where he rose and quickly slumped against the wall, allowing it to take his weight that he was apparently not able to support right now.

Man, this sucked. 

Everything burnt. 

He could barely see anything- the little slit in the door allowing for slabs of dull purple light to slither in and that was all. He knew that by not complying to their commands he would suffer a price but this was insane. Breaths came short and laboured, eyesight blurry, and he couldn’t get past the ringing in his ears. His hands were no better, shaking with what Lance knew to be clear effects of the quintessence they electrocuted him with. 

And yet even then with that he found himself craving it- despite the pain it brought him—or —was it painful, really? 

maybe this was a good feeling—yes….yes...he really ought to have some more, more, just a little _more_\---

No!

This was what they wanted- they were trying to get him addicted!

Was this how Keith had felt- every time he had drunk the coffee?

No wonder he wasn’t himself. Lance was barely resisting it after one session- Keith- _a recovering addict_\- practically lived off of it for almost a _week_.

He let out a pitiful groan before stopping and loaning in pain as his neck screamed at him. 

“You okay over there?”

Lance let out a shriek- which came out pitiful and hoarse. 

“Sorry- sorry.” the voice flitted in again. “I didn’t want you to get scared but I didn’t know how else to introduce myself.”

“Maybe start with a name?!” Lance squeaked very macho-ly.

“Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I don’t really know if I can say my name though. I don't even know who you are.”

“I’m-” Lance stopped. He couldn’t just say who he was- this could be a test. “I’m in the same situation as you though, huh.”

The voice didn’t reply, so lance took it as an opportunity to continue. “How long have you ever been here?”

At this, there was a bitter laugh. “I don’t know.” the voice that continued was suddenly a lot smaller. “I don’t know what the date is. No-one’s told me-- and I lost track a while ago.”

_Christ_.

“You never did answer my question,” the other voice- the voice Lance had decided was now decidedly on his side- said. This time though, Lance could tell there was a tiredness lacing its way through each word. “How bad did they hurt you?”

Lance raised his eyebrows. “I feel like I’ve just been microwaved.”

The other voice snorted. “I’m guessing they electrocuted you then, huh.”

In response, Lance tried to shrug his shoulders, which was a mistake. He groaned once again. “How come no one told me how hot everything would feel after you get electrocuted?”

“To be fair to everyone else, who knows random shit like that?”

“Not everyone, but my Sergeant was really good with this stuff. She was the best at figuring out particular weapons used and anything else.”

“Sounds like a smart woman.”

“Dude she’s the best. She’s one of the youngest Sargent's to come out of the police academy.”

“Police--you’re police?” The voice seemed so shocked by it Lance blanched. Was this guy not good? Had he said too much?

“Uh. That’s not a problem, I’m hoping?”

“No. not at all. I was just-” it faltered. A full 10 seconds passed before it spoke up again, although this time it was much smaller. “I just thought maybe you were going to get me out.”

Lance grimaced.

“Sorry dude. This was kinda a solo mission.”

“So no-one knows you’re here?”

“Only one- and he’s somewhere here.”

“He a policeman too?”

“Detective. We’re detectives.”

“Same thing, isn’t it?”

Lance had never been so offended in his life. “._..No…!?”_

“Sorry sorry. That was a shitty joke. I’m... just kidding.” Silence. Then- “Was nice to joke around for a bit.”

And now Lance felt like an asshole. “I’m really sorry man.” He wasn’t talking about the joke.

“I know.”

* * *

Pidge had not been seen for 8 hours. 

The rest of them knew they were fine- mostly because after 3 hours they popped her head out and yelled for Hunk, who came running.

The portal struck once again and he was gone, like the wind.

It was only after the rest of them were closing up (they were all going over to Adam’s house where Shiro was currently, doing unofficial work on the case).

Lotor had just kissed Allura goodbye and left when there, clear as day, was Pidge’s grumble: “Finally.”

Then, just as quickly as they had first disappeared, they popped their head out, followed by Hunk, looking concerned. He had deep worry lines etched across his face, an unusual sight on his normally kind face. 

“Sarge? Cap’n? Please come in here.” 

* * *

“Lotor’s lying to us.”

Hunk raised his eyebrows and muttered, “Great way to ease them into it.”

In response, Pidge hit him over the shoulder and repeated themselves. “Lotor is lying to us.”

Allura didn’t move. She 

“How did you..?”

“When we got to Lance’s apartment last night-- Lotor was explaining everything a little too perfectly. I started to look around for a bit before I noticed something- a dent in the chest of drawers.” They said, not wasting time. “I looked closer, and underneath the drawers was Keith’s phone. I thought it was weird that Keith didn’t take it with him-”

“Maybe he didn’t want it to be tracked?” Allura cut in.

“Maybe. But even so, if Keith was the perpetrator, his phone couldn’t’ve been near one of the areas of injury unless he had been doing something for it to slip out-”

“Like hitting lance..?”

“Again- that is entirely possible- but only if Keith hit Lance in such a particular angle that was so powerful it meant his phone went flying underneath the drawers. Otherwise, it would have fallen out of his pocket, sure, but bounced off of the drawer- not fall underneath it. Either way, I knew that if I got his phone I might be able to have some answers but it was dead. So I charged it up- and I tried to get it but I couldn’t.”

“And that's when I stepped in.” said Hunk.

They nodded but allowed Hunk to continue. “It took all day but we were able to get in. the first thing we did was look at the texts- and aside from lance, he had texted Lotor by far the most. It was erratic- and something’s clearly up with him- but it’s clear he’s not the enemy here--”

“So then we checked the camera roll for any physical evidence- and we found a video clip. It’s only about 8 seconds long-- but-”

They pressed the play button, and Lotor’s unmistakable British accent shone right through.

_ “Whilst you may think of yourself as a...what was the word you used..'' good detective..?.”.. Lance was better. So much better, in fact, that as I’m sure you can see, he, unfortunately, was rather close to figuring out how I was- too close.“Yes,” he continued. “It seems my own sloppiness is going to cost the lives of two people who my love seems to like, but alas, that just means she will look to me for more comfort. You should see how she reacts to the deaths...so full of despair, so very sad. I wonder what she would do if she knew?”_

_Keith's voice shook slightly and Coran drummed his fingers together. “What about London?”_

_Lotors voice again. “For such a good detective you really don’t know what you’re doing, do you, dear?” He cracked a grin. “I was never in London, Keith. These things take time to plan and I just needed to make sure no one would disturb me. The original plan was to stop much before, come back to “support her '', and then, whilst she’s upset and needing comfort, I propose. But after Lance figured it out I realised I would have to make sure he was disposed of before I could stop this madness.” He stopped, and his tone turned almost sympathetic, though it was dripping with cruel undertones. “You never had to die, Keith. It was your own idiotic self sacrificing self You did this to yourse---”_

“The phone stops recording then.”

Allura didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. The only thing that betrayed her otherwise poker face was the ever so slight tremble in her clenched fists. 

Hunk turned to her. “‘Lura..?”

“The plan is simple.” She began. “We’ll need to brief Shiro and Adam on it, obviously, but I can try and get as much information out of Lotor whilst he still doesn’t know that I know.”

Pidge and Hunk blinked. “Sarge- you don’t have too-”

“He hurt one of my own.” She stood up, and Coran had to marvel at the confidence of the woman he had come to think of as his daughter. “He...he came in here...hurt the people of my city...then had the audacity of trying to hurt my own team. My family.  
No. No. I will not allow it. Not while I am a sergeant. Not whilst I have a say.” She closed her eyes and willed her hands to stop trembling- to which they obeyed. Gradually, and only when she was ready, she opened them, her eyes radiating anger and hatred at a man she thought she loved- but also, quite clearly- determination. She turned to the Captain. “Coran," she said finally. "We must stop Lotor.”

The older man’s face grew wide with surprise- having a silent conversation in doing so. Finally, he asked: “Allura, are you sure?”

“Now’s as best a time as any, wouldn’t you say?” 

At the other man nodding, she pulled out her phone. After a minute, she spoke: “We should meet him- he’ll be waiting for us.”

The others still looked confused. “Captain—Sargent- wh-“

“I swear it will make sense soon. For now, we just need to—“ She was cut off by her phone buzzing. Curious, she answered the call. “..Adam..?”

Pidge, Hunk and Coran all exchanged puzzled glances. They looked at Allura, who’s frown lines deepened as she listened to whatever Adam was saying on the other line. 

Then, she blinked. She blinked. “No- I thought he was at yours?”

A few seconds later, she spoke up again, eyes going to the floor. “Okay. Thanks, I’ll let them know.” 

She turned the phone off and swore, which was an incredibly rare sight. 

“Uh...Sarge..?” Hunk tried.

“It’s Shiro,” she said, still not looking up from the floor. “He told us he would be with Adam all day on the case, but Adam just called me to say Shiro left last night after he found out what happened, and that he told Adam he was here with us.”

Coran sighed. “You think he’s gone to find them on his own?” 

“Something like that, yes. But it means that we’re 4 men down, and the last thing I need is to involve more people. I need to get Adam to help me out but I don’t know how to get him away from Lotor.”

“The best bet we have- is you yourself telling him to stay home,” said Pidge. “Act like a damsel in distress or something, say you’re afraid for him- make him stay home.”

“He’d never believe Allura was some damsel!” Hunk replied indignantly.

“Until we figure it out properly, Adams is out of the picture as well. Which means we’re 5 men down in a 9 person team.”

She paused for a while, clearly in thought. After maybe 30 seconds passed. She turned to the captain. “It’s time we got my father involved.”

And that was a weird thing to say, because why on earth would you look to getting your father involved in something like this? Still, Pidge held their tongue. 

“Sargent, are you sure?” Replied Coran, eyes hard. 

She nodded. 

“Then it’s settled.” The captain stood. His expression was more serious than Pidge had ever seen. “It’s time we ended this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, apparently not even a pandemic can get me to finish this.  
I have a couple housekeeping things to say so this might get sorta long  
-The first and easily most important is that i’m going to be renaming this fic to “Occultatus Aperta”. I’ve been wanting to do it since i uploaded the last chapter almost two months ago but i knew i couldn’t change it without telling you guys first. I’m going to do it in a few days after the initial surge of previous readers have read it- and ill be putting a disclaimer in the summary to remind everyone that it used to be “Hidden in Plain Sight”- but like i said, i’m renaming it (to its latin version of the name bc i think it sounds prettier eheh.)  
-Second is that i’m opening up commissions again (I’ll be getting rid of this comment in a couple days bc i know A03 don’t like these shh) but more details are on my [tumblr](https://klaxces.tumblr.com/)  
—especially during this whole pandemic having some sort of an income helps me immensely.  
-There’s also my [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/klaxces) if you don’t want a commission but still want to support me.  
-Hopefully, chapter 9 will be out sooner than 2 months, especially because of this whole pandemic mess i should be writing more. I do publish updates on my [tumblr](https://klaxces.tumblr.com/)  
if you’re ever wondering what’s going on or why i haven’t uploaded in a while. 
> 
> That’s all!! (I think.)


	9. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legend of the paladins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man y'all are gonna hate me for this one HUh.  
(sorry about the long wait gah.)

Alfor lived in a grand old house alongside his wife on the edge of the city. He was retired, after serving as the commissioner of the Altea PD himself and prided h.imself on having inspired his only daughter to follow in his footsteps (although she was fast overtaking him, her own talent and with far better than he could hope to be. He knew for a fact it was her life goal to become commissioner at a younger age then him, and at this point- she would be) Still, his relationship with his daughter was close, and they regularly met up to discuss police matters if she was having difficulties solving cases.

One such case was the "suicides" plaguing his city like an infectious disease. Try as he might, he was right there with his daughter, confused as ever. Which is why the phone call he received at 1:43 am only surprised him mildly- he was used to getting such calls from his overworked daughter, but the urgency of her tone, coupled with his old friend and now Captain Coran’s voice in the background—

He knew it was serious. 

And so here he stood, the only standing member of the unexpected party of 4 who were sitting around the grand table in his living room, next to his loving, beautiful, wonderful, very disgruntled wife. She had just sat down after insisting their visitors drink some herbal tea and set out a plate of biscuits (presently they lay untouched).

After a quick debriefing, Allura put down her cup of tea and looked up at her father. “I suppose what we’re asking, father,” she finished, “is for your expertise.”

“And why do you think I would be useful in such a situation?”

She did not answer him, only continued to stare knowingly.

The information his daughter had brought up was troubling, to say the least. If it  _ was _ true that Lotor had taken Keith and Lance for the reasons he suspected, they were all in far more danger then he could possibly begin to explain. In any such case, there were going to need more then who they had in front of them if they wanted to stop Lotor.

“For you to properly understand,” he began slowly, “you must first hear the truth.

“There is a company- I believe known as Galra Enterprises- that have been in business for generations.” He began. “Originally from a small, forgotten village, they expanded their enterprise before staying here, in Altea. Centuries ago, they used to market various different homegrown miracle cures, from miracle hair growth to influenza stoppers. 

"And people bought into them- desperate for some sort of cure to their seemingly incurable diseases- they would spend fortunes on recipes guaranteed to work. People began noticing something was not right, however. For those who claimed to be fine, they were not acting like their normal selves. In permanent gratitude to the life-changing materials that they were given, they chose to quit their life plans and sell their souls to Galra. They stopped talking to their friends, left their spouses, abandoned their own children- all for Galra. 

"And so for those that were not affected, they reported it to the police- the federal agencies- whosoever they could. They tried everything they could, but no one would listen. Only those who had tried their miracle cure and have it fail on them were aware of the consequences. Everyone else, it seemed, did not know nor care about the dangers of succumbing to the Galra will.”

The others listened intently, but Coran nudged him along. “A little quicker, old friend. We have little time to waste.”

And he nodded, continuing: “Soon, there was a very small group of people who, after not only being victims to their infection beforehand but discovering that the miracle drugs given to them had little to no effect- they used it as a weapon. They met, in secret one night, before deciding that they should use this failure to their advantage. Pretending as if it had worked, the 8 signed up, like the others before them, to work in one of the camps. 

“What they would soon discover, it would seem, is that Galra were not some miracle cure builder, but something far far  “You sees,” he said, stopping to drink some tea. “Every creature on the planet, human or otherwise, is equipped with a distinct energy pattern. It is what feeds us, protects us, and in this case, keeps the 8 safes from harm.”

“I don’t understand.” broke in Hunk. “Energy can be...controlled?”

“With practice, yes,” replied Coran. “We call it “Quintessence- the ‘essence’ or ‘energy’ of your being that can be manipulated and controlled at will. Those with strong quintessence can eventually use it to protect themselves or someone else. It is how the 8 managed to remain unaffected against the infection.

“Because they had powerful quintessence?” asked Pidge, who for once in their life, looked baffled.

“Yes,” Alfor answered. “Those who have powerful quintessence are immune to others trying to control it for them.”

“Wait- Galra was trying to control other people’s quintessence?” Hunk said. “Why? How?”

“From the cures- the miracle cures,” Pidge answered, and Alfor could see the puzzles fitting into space in their brain. Allura was right- they were exceptionally bright.

“You are correct.” He answered. “Galra was poisoning the residents of the village with quintessence numbing drugs. They would get them to a point wherein they were vulnerable- as vulnerable as they could possibly be- before taking the now weakened quintessence out of their bodies. Without it, the infected would be void of personality- void of life itself, only a shell of the person they once were.”

“You can harbour  _ energy?! _ ” 

“Well I wouldn’t suggest doing it, but yes, it is entirely possible.”

“Alfor.” His wife gave a deadpan stare. She was right. There was no time for joking around.

He coughed. “In any case, the infected would be subjected to having their quintessence numbed down enough to where it was practically useless to themselves, in which case Galra could harbour it and revitalise it, adding to their collection of steadily growing quintessence.”

“That’s terrifying.” Finished Hunk.

“The 8 had the same thought as you did, Hunk. So, under the guise of being infected, they all met up in secret, attempting to figure out how they could stop Galra- and how they could use their own quintessence, of which by this point they had realised was intensely powerful to be able to continuously come into contact with quintessence draining material and not be affected.

“They spent almost 3 years of training and working, slowly gathering allies. It was all a secret affair, and not without its sacrifices. They had to leave their families, their friends, and loved ones, to continue to spy on Galra. They had no doubt in their minds that if they were found out, they would be killed.

“Soon enough, however, they came to a point where they knew they were ready. They were able to channel their energy into what it was- a weapon. They were able to fight well with physical weapons, and protect themselves from wounds with their quintessence. At this point, their quintessence was so powerful it had taken on a life of its own- an accompanying colour to match. Blue, for power and forgiveness- Green for intelligence and wit. Red for danger and bravery, Yellow for kindness and loyalty. Orange for nobility and compassion. White for strength and love. Lilac for tranquillity and happiness. And Black for leadership. Their allies possessed similarly powerful quintessence, but these 8 were the only known beings in history to have quintessence powerful enough that they could form a distinct power colour to move in tandem with their personality. Working together, they could merge their essences, and could form quintessence that shone brighter than any star, and were able to repel any danger. 

“When the time was right, they stormed the building and fought like heroes. Their allies freed those about to be taken and held burials for those lost. But the warriors fought, fought quickly and diligently until finally, Galra enterprises fell.

“Free from the spell, the people rejoiced, for the evil had gone. There was no more energy harvesting- no more quintessence harbouring. The 8 went down in the history of the village, and each generation told the legend of the warriors.

“They were known as saviours- protectors of their village. They came in a time of desperate need and ensured freedom for all. 

“They were known as the Paladins.” He finished.

“But, I still don’t understand.” blurted Allura. “These paladins- Galra- what has that got to do with us?”

“Galra Enterprises may have been destroyed, but not all involved perished. There were a few, so corrupted by quintessence they no longer had rational thinking- who scurried away, waiting. Years later, once the original paladins had passed on, they told their secret to their heirs. And thus the cycle continued. Eventually, an heir decided to start again. Mad with desire to avenge their ancestors, they started up the business again- only this time, under the guise of a coffee shop. They named it Arlag.”

Pidge sucked in a breath. 

“Their methods seem much more vicious these days, killing people outright once they’re done providing them with their quintessence. But the point still stands. They take people, drug them- this time using coffee- until their energy is sapped from them and they only have one need- to have more and more coffee. Another difference this time around is that they further want to keep those with the powerful quintessence- those who will, under general circumstances, be immune to usual methods of harbouring. It is the only explanation for why Lotor seems to have taken Detectives McClain and Kogane.”

“Keith and Lance? You think they're trying to control then? Get their...quintessence?”

“And harbour it as well. It is likely they already attempted it with your brother, young Pidge.”

Pidge flushed whilst Allura and Hunk let our confused honking noises.

“How did you know?” they muttered, ignoring the others.

“You look just like him,” Alfor replied simply.

“I can’t believe I'm saying this but we don’t have time to find out about Pidge’s mysterious long lost brother,” Hunk said, tearing his eyes and clearly his focus away from the sure-to-be juicy gossip and onto Alfor once more.

“You still haven’t answered Allura’s question. Why did you tell us all this? I mean- it’s a great story and all, but it’s just...I don’t doubt Arlag is up to some shady business, but ultimately the whole ‘harvesting energy’ thing, that’s just...a story, right?”

“I can assure you it is not.”

“How’s that, Dad?” this time Allura spoke with genuine curiosity.

“Because everyone in this room is a descendant of the original paladins.”

There was an intense silence at first before many voices broke out at once. Hunk and Pidge turned to one another before Hunk exclaimed “no way” whilst Pidge mumbled something about logical improbabilities, still clearly caught off-balance after Alfor admitted knowing her brother. Allura raised her eyebrows and yelled out “ _ What?!”  _ And, once they had all calmed down, his dear, dear old friend commented rather dryly: “Always a flair for the dramatics, Alfor.”

Quick as a flash, Allura turned on him. “Don’t tell me you knew?”

“You heard your father, love. Everyone in this room is a descendant. Well, aside from you, Melenor.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe I’m just very good at hiding it,” she replied, but there was no heat behind it.

“How-this—. He stopped. Then- “you’re crazy.” said Hunk. “No way that’s true. Aside from the literal impossibility of  _ magic _ or whatever, how do you even know- how are- we- it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Doesn’t it?” Alfor said. “You may not admit this to one me but you know for a fact that you all felt drawn to this city, to this job- to this precinct. You got transferred numerous times until you landed here, where you felt was right, and you- Hunk,” he looked at the other man, “were even drawn to Lance as a child, even though you both had your own friends.” 

Hunk didn’t reply. 

“All of you are paladins in the making. I assume Keith and Lance are as well.” 

“Even me?” 

Allura seemed to be accepting this news rigidly and silently unwilling to entertain the possibility of this being a lie. Perhaps this was her way of coping with the news of her boyfriend of 3 years- who has apparently been ready to  _ propose _ (yes he listened to the phone recording)- turning out to be a serial killer. 

“Yes, ‘Lura.” he replied softly. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Paladins should never have to use their gifts. I certainly never did, nor has Coran, until now. I didn’t think it was relevant to your life until it becomes absolutely necessary”.

“So how does this help us against the fight for Keith and Lance?” broke in Pidge, who still looked agitated. “I mean, don’t get me wrong- I love knowing that we all secretly have superpowers or whatever the fuck- but every second spent not making a plan is another second they’re getting their energy harboured.”

Coran raised his eyebrows. “Whilst you may be correct Gunderson, the only way for us to even have a small chance of beating Lotor and Arlag is if we attempt to awaken the power within yourselves. And Wilson and Shirogane, of course.”

“And Adam is still with Lotor?” Melenor asked.

“No, we told him we had a situation and he made his excuses and left. He should be on his way now.” Allura said. “Lotor sent me a text he was going to stay the night at Adam’s, which is to say he’s without a doubt gone to Keith and Lance.” her voice only shook once, at the moment she said his name.

“When he arrives, we must brief him, quicky, and get to work.” Melenor, his beautiful, calm, wonderful, understanding wife said. “Alfor- have you informed the allies?”

He nodded. “Shay should be here soon- Nyma and Rollo are flying in from the south so it may take a little longer for them. Curtis and the rest of the MFE’s are on their way as well. The rest have yet to respond-- but I’m sure they will.”

Coran nodded. “They better. We need all the help we can get- time is running out.”

Alfor could only agree. He hoped he was right about the other detectives, and that their combined natural quintessence would be enough to hold out against Arlag for a few more hours.

* * *

Across town, Lance could barely breathe from the pain.

He had long since understood what was going on- why this was happening to him- what he must have done in his life to deserve such a cruel and drawn-out death scene.

_ I’m dying _ , he thought distantly.  _ This is how I die. _

He must have been a very evil person to deserve this. The constant feeling of being burnt alive had dissipated into being burnt _dead,_ and his voice was raw and cracked, lips bleeding from screaming. His wrists were sore and bleeding from how hard he had tried to claw his hands away from the binds holding him down. He couldn’t  _ see _ anymore, tears in his eyes fogging his vision- only colours and  _ heat heat heat _ . Soon he was crying out- screaming, crying, for someone- Veronica- Hunk- Keith- his mother- to help him, to find him, to take him away.

No one came.

He lost consciousness as he usually did these days- months- years- however long he had been dying for.

Alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exposition? she's evolved.  
(yes i updated the chapter count NO ONE LOOK AT ME)


	10. Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different perspectives of life right now. Kinda crazy, huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot to say in my end notes.  
For now, time's are insane, and I know it can be scary. I hope this provides you with some of the escapism you may be needing (but also please please look at my endnotes)

It had been  _ hours _ .

Keith was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything— which wasn’t unfamiliar to him these days but jarring nonetheless. His arm, which had been stripped of its sling the moment they had woken up in this hellhole, throbbed painfully. But he wasn’t worried about it- in fact, he chose to ignore all the weird red alerts his body seemed to be yelling at him, in favour of worrying about one thing. 

Lance. 

It was almost as if he- Keith- didn’t exist in Lotors eyes. Lance had been taken hours ago and Keith still had no idea where he was, or what was happening to him. He felt sick. 

And there was nothing to do, nothing to do at all but wait in the silence. There was no light, no light at all but the engulfing, all-consuming darkness which surrounded him. A slither of feeble purple light was let in at the front of the prison doors but it wasn't enough, it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough. 

There was nothing to do but to worry, and to think.

He missed Shiro. 

He missed his brother, the man he looked up to more than anyone as a kid fresh out of the foster system with no one to love or care about. Shiro took him in, helped him, mentored him- and when his foster mum- Shiro's mum- was diagnosed with Cancer- he helped her then, too. 

Keith still remembered a 17-year-old Shiro, alone in his room, unaware a 12-year-old Keith was watching him through the crack in the door- a bad habit he had picked up from years of fear that his current family were going to get rid of him again like others had before- as he listened in to his phone call with Matt.

_ “I don’t have another option, dude,” he said, words filled with pain- sadness. “They offer good money, and with dad gone and mum’s bills racking up- I need to make sure they’re both gonna be okay.” _

_ The voice on the other line said some more unintelligible things. Shiros voice lowered even more and Keith strained to hear. “I know Keith needs me, but he also needs a home. I can use the money to pay off her hospital bills and have enough left over to keep them afloat for at least 3 years. I won’t be gone more than that.”  _

_ The voice on the other line grew softer, and Shiro’s voice mirrored it. “I know. And it’s not totally out of the picture. I’m sure the Garrison offers vacancies for older students. Maybe if I just explain to them the full story-“ he stopped, the other voice saying something that made Shiro sag further into his bed.  _

_ There was quiet on both sides before Matt's voice was softly heard. “Shiro buddy, you there?”  _

_ “I’m really not going to get into the garrison at all, am I” he let out a small laugh- but it was bitter. Defeatist.  _

_ For a little while, there was no reply.  _

_ “I don’t think so.” _

He knows now, almost 15 years later, it wasn’t his fault. He was a part of their family- had been for 2 years at that point- but seeing his brother give up on his dreams to fight in the army (the same army that he spent his years prior criticising constantly to his mother, keith and his now passed father) drove him over the edge. He still remembered blindly going into middle school the week after Shiro had left and run into one of the older kids- kids who his mum had told him to stay away from. 

He had lied to her then like he had lied to her later about his drug intake.

It wasn’t often that now 27-year-old Keith thought about his days as an addict- and what it did to his brother when he had found out. Shiro had come home, riddled with PTSD, scars covering every inch of his body and without a damned  _ arm _ \-- 

But he was still there for Keith.

The phone call where both of them were crying- screaming at each other to be safe as Keith was hauled off to Rehab and Shiro took another term serving so he could afford to pay for it--- haunted him. He would often wake up, years later, and have to crawl into Shiro’s bed at an ungodly hour so his brother could reassure him that everything was fine, he was okay- they were both alive and here.

They didn’t talk about it.

And yet in it was always something at the back of each of their minds- when Keith first woke up after his motorbike crash a billion years ago (although in reality, it had only been about 5) it was the first thing Shiro asked him. The worry in his features was so familiar to him even now, so many years since rehab.

But he was fine- he  _ was.  _ Fully sober for almost a decade, he felt like he was finally getting his life back together- financial independence, his brother and him were closer than ever and it was safe to say a few relationships were blooming.

Until of course- that damned  _ Lotor-- _

He should have  _ known _ Lotor had been drugging him. He should have recognised the signs. The tiredness, the itchiness- the less glamorous aspects of addiction that Hollywood might present. It was all so achingly familiar to him and he hadn’t realised what was happening until the moment the silver-haired freak tried to kill Lance.

Distantly, he wondered if this meant he was no longer sober for as long as he once was.

* * *

Adam had arrived 20 minutes before a platoon of guests exploded into the Arus household. Apparently being told he was a paladin wasn't the weirdest thing he had been told that day- Lotor had been preaching to anyone who would listen (and the only person around had been him, unfortunately) that Keith was a no-good liar and poor Lance was in it for the lifetime, which was strange enough as well- but honestly, finding out that Keith is supposedly a serial killer who not only killed a bunch of random people that he doesn’t know in his own city but then kidnapped and is likely on his way to kill his friend—nothing could really top that. 

Besides, Shiro wasn’t answering his texts, so Adam had more important things to worry about.

After discussing it, they all came to the conclusion that what was now most important to them was being able to harbour it, so they could essentially use their power against Arlag. He still had no real idea  _ how _ to do so, and thus far only Allura had managed to “unlock her inner quintessence” which didn’t surprise him at all. 

Seeing her do so was insane- truth be told he was still not too sure he believed in this whole “paladin” thing, but when Allura’s eyes suddenly shone a brilliant white light (he only briefly thought she was the avatar) and she yelled before a  _ weapon materialised itself into her hands _ \--

It was safe to say he believed her now.

“The legend of the bayard is truly something to witness.”Coran had murmured. “Even after all these years, I still haven’t managed to produce one myself.”

“Why not?” said Hunk. To the left of him, Pidge was opening and closing their palm uselessly, as if willing their own bayard to pop up. Thus far, they were not succeeding

Coran was looking over at his niece, who stood with her father and Shay, all of them enamoured by the brilliant white bayard. “The legend says that the paladins were able to produce bayards in the way that they were as a result of great emotion. Usually, it is tied to the fear of losing someone you love.” he was quiet for a second. “Allura doesn’t need to fear that anymore.”

Adam looked down at his own hand. Shiro still hadn’t said anything, and whilst newcomers Nyma and Rolo had assured him multiple times that Shiro would be fine- of all people to know what he was doing, not jump in guns blazing, it would be him- but the pit of uneasiness within him only grew as the days passed.

Four days later, they weren’t any closer to figuring out where he was, and how to unlock their bayards.

He hoped Shiro was okay.

* * *

“My theory?” said the voice. “Quintessence.”

Keith had told him a million years ago that Lance was supposed to die on April 9th. Lance now sees that Keith was right. Lance  _ did _ die on April 9th. Everything after then seemed as if it was fuzzier, fictional- almost flaccid. 

Lance was pretty sure (emphasis on the “pretty”- he may be kidnapped but he was still making sure gaga was proud) that he was dead. There was no other explanation for the batshit insane conversation he was currently a part of.

“And now what the everloving hell-” drawled Lance, “- is  _ Quintessence. _ ”. 

It was their 4th day here- he thought. Which in itself was absurd, because he felt like it had been 40 years, an entire lifetime, the birth and death of a star. 

The routine was very simple, and as a result, easy to follow. They would come in, electrocute him for a bit, refusing to answer any of his questions and dump him back into his little dingy cell. It was broken, smelt like egg farts (and burnt toast, but that was probably just him) and had little to no light- but he was beginning to look forward to his little cell after a long hard day of working hard at not dying.

“Like….it’s like energy.”

“Like wavelengths?”

The other voice made an exasperated sound. “No dude. It’s like- like our own energy- I think they’re trying to manipulate it.”

“You can do that? Why- why would you- why?”

“I don’t know- power?”

Lance pulled a face. 

* * *

“If you want to hit them where it hurts, you need to break them emotionally first.” Lotor stood up from where he was sitting and walked over to his father. “You can’t keep sucking the quintessence out of him whilst mentally he’s fine.”

“I would have thought getting Quintessence removed from your soul causes quite a bit of emotional turmoil.”

Lotor sighed. Why he tried to reason with a man such as his father, he would never know.“Don’t play smart- you get what I’m saying”

“Even if I were to submit to your chimerical fantasies, what is so wrong with what we’re doing now?”

“It’ll take too long! You know this!”

“What are you trying to say?” Asked the other man. “Why do you care so much if he suffers for longer?”

Lotor said nothing for a little while. It was vital his father believe he-Lotor- had been wrestled into submission- that he was nothing more than a naive child. “I just don’t like seeing my friend get hurt. Let me take care of him once in a while...please”

His father let out a laugh, ugly and loud. It was rich with superiority and narcissism and bore no real happiness. “If it will make your moral compass feel superior, go for it. Coo for the boy you abducted and tortured.” He let out another dry laugh and went back to looking over his files.

Good. He believed he had won.

* * *

Axca knew from a young age she wasn’t going to make it to 21.

In and out of the fostering system since she was a child, she very quickly outgrew empathy and, in a bid to survive until the legal drinking age, instead went for using her intelligence for something else. 

A coffee shop executive.

Of course, she knew it wasn’t really what it was. She had heard the rumours from the darknet that risky alchemists were attempting to put an end to mankind's greatest failure- death. The key to immortality could be achieved and she wanted to be a part of it. 

She waited in the wings, keeping her head low as she listened to her superiors plans try and flail to succeed. She played into the dumb girl stereotype and they believed her. They always did. 

In any case, when she swooped in and took their successes from under them as they looked back in shock and betrayal, she felt no sympathy.

And so here she was, 6 years later, with three of the other employees. They made a very good team, the four of them- intelligent, ruthless, and agile.

Zethrid, Narti, herself and Ezor. 

She didn’t think it was narcissistic to think of herself as the “leader” of their small group. She was a natural leader- ruthless where she needed to be, fair to those below her, and could keep a clear and heavy head.

As it was, they were currently discussing matters in a less overt area of the facility- one wherein they could not be overheard. 

Axca paused and thought carefully before she spoke. “Lance is stronger than you think. Stronger than most people, I think. It’s why he targeted him. I could sense it. But…”

“But what?”

“The Extractor should have pretty much taken all usable quintessence from him at this point, right?”

Zethrid leaned forward in her seat. “Yeah?”

Axca continued. “But it didn’t. In fact, he’s pretty much the same as when we brought him in- he still has the energy to take- and a lot of it.”

Ezor still looked confused. “I don’t get what you mean.”

“What if he wasn’t like the others? I mean, there’s got to be a reason that Lotor brought him in with the other boy- the one in red- what if he was like Matt? Or even S-”

“That’s quite enough.”

Axca’s blood ran cold. She turned and faced Lotor, who was standing by the doorway, looking rather displeased. “Lotor! We didn’t think you were--”

“Listening? Oh, but I am truly glad I was.” he stepped into the room. “Next time you wish to discuss matters such as these, you may want to think about who’s quarters you’re taking refuge in. Now. What's this about how you think I don’t tell you anything?”

Zethrid and Ezor said nothing, even when she looked at them desperately. 

With far more confidence than she really had, she said: “Well, I’m right, aren’t I?”

Lotor cocked his head to the side. “Oh?”

“About Lance- and about the others you kept. They’re not normal- they’re not, are they?”

“Normal how?”

She felt like her tongue was made of rubber. His piercing eyes bore into her own and he found herself unable to meet them fully, which was ridiculous, honestly.

“They’re paladins.”

Ezor gasped, and Zethid let out a surprised grunt. Even Narti looked up from her tablet.

Lotor did not move, did not speak. After a while, he spoke up once more: “And that’s why you’re my 2nd in command.”

Axca’s cheeks went red. She was blushing with secret pride, at not only being the first to uncover the truth about the only few held in the warehouse but at receiving her superiors rare praise.

“What I am about to say must not be repeated to anyone outside ourselves.” Lotor began. 

The others nodded quickly, Narti as well.

“I believe Lance to possess the blue quintessence. We can use him- such as we used the Black Paladin, and create our own level of quintessence that will surely be more powerful than my father ever dreamed.”

He smiled. “We can bring peace, finally, to this city.”

* * *

“You’re really not going to give me a hint?”

The other voice- or, Bob, as Lance had dubbed him (it was a curse to be as creative as he was, what could he say), pulled a face. “You’re still seriously asking me that?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there isn’t really much else to do in these here parts. Besides, if you annoy someone long enough, eventually they’ll yield. Or are you forgetting about the  _ Percy Jackson _ Disney+ remake?”

“They’re making a remake?!” Bob squawked.

“Ah man, yeah dude! Of course, how would you know? You’ve been stuck here. Wow, I’ve really gotta catch you up on a lot of stuff.”

“Next you’re going to say they’re remaking  _ twilight.” _

“Actually, it’s going to be set in Edward’s perspective.”

“ _ What?” _

They couldn't continue their life-changing discussions as the door to his cell abruptly opened. Instantly rigid, he did nothing until he heard Bob yell out.

“Bob?” he said. He felt ridiculous using the name now there were Scary Purple People approaching him. He was shoved forward by the two men in purple hard, and since he hadn’t figured out his balance properly he fell slightly before one of the men grabbed his hair and before he knew it, his head met the cold metallic floor. 

He was only aware of the intense ringing and pain a few seconds later, which must have meant he blacked out (a hard solve but alas, Lance was a detective for a reason). Unable to do much else but allow the purple men to grab either arm, he felt his knees scrape across the floor as he was led out of the cell, black spots accompanying him.

The difference this time was the other cell opening and two other purple men pulling out another figure, who seems to be yelling profanities at both his purple men and Lance’s. 

And alas, someone should really add “hallucinations” to the list of effects a concussion can have on you because as Lance grappled towards the remaining bits of consciousness, he was almost certain his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Pidge?” he muttered.

And then, just as quickly as Bob’s expression grew into one of confusion, he was gone, once more, submitting himself into the now familiar darkness.

* * *

It was some hours later when he could hear again.

“Lance.”

Her voice was dipped in honey, her tone was golden. It was too sweet- it was too perfect-

“Lance….Lance….” she cooed. He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t lift his head. “Why don’t you wake up for me Lance….nice Lance..powerful lance...beautiful Lance….”

They took Pidge-Bob- whoever. They took them and he could hear their screams from the other room. 

“Such a powerful specimen. And he just...won’t break?” someone murmured behind him. “Fascinating.”

He was shaking. He didn't want to wake up. He was conscious but she didn't know that and he wanted it to stay like that. 

“Lance honey…Lance sweetie...it’s time to wake up now isn’t it?”

He did not want to. He did not want to open his eyes again and see her. 

“We have a visitor for you.”

And that was weird, wasn’t it? Was it Pidge again?

“Lance?”

His heart dropped into his chest. There was- there was no way-

“Lance!”

He felt himself shift slightly and then was abruptly let down by the two purple figures holding him up. He groaned, and someone else touched him and he braced himself for more pain--

It didn’t come.

These hands were gentle, they were soft. They were hovering over him, asking for permission over a dead body.

“Lance.  _ Lance. _ Stay awake,  _ please _ stay awake. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine Lance-- you can’t do this to me- Lance- please-”

He choked and gurgled on his own blood. Cooper and iron- it was like pennies. He opened his eyes and met brilliant purple and blue. They were soft, kind, perfect.

He was perfect.

He didn’t have a lot of time left. He didn’t want to die-- not yet-- not before he knew the truth.

Somehow, with strength he surely didn’t possess, he gripped his shirt and pulled it down and the other gasped in surprise at the moment.

Lance was smiling, fat tears rolling their way down his face. He was saying something, but Lance was just so tired.

“Keith.” Said Lance.

And he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright.
> 
> The detectives in this fic, much like most fiction out there, are not an accurate depiction of police officers. I realise that I continue to write about them but to the 3k readers (so far) that have read this, I hope you're all aware that not only is this a gross romanticisation of the criminal justice system, but also a glamorisation of all cops in general. ACAB babes.
> 
> Support the Black Lives Matter movement:  
\- [Full List of Petitions, Places to make donations (even if just by watching youtube), and emails to send/phone numbers to call- folks outside of the U.S can still do these!](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-0KC83vYfVQ-2freQveH43PWxuab2uWDEGolzrNoIks/preview?pru=AAABcpmzSSM*2Td3ykSyi-9IEwKhnHBRAw#)  
-Protest SAFELY. Do not go to a protest if you haven't done any research into what to do/not to do. (It takes thirty seconds, just go on google "what to do/not to do at a protest")  
-If you send me a picture of proof that you've donated more than $5/£5 to one of the blm charities, I will personally write you under 5k words on anything you want. Anything! Make sure to get in contact with me on my Tumblr linked below.
> 
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> 
> Alright, that's all. Remember to stay safe, black lives matter always and forever, and I'll see you guys soon. Love y'all infinitely.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying this new thing out called “actually finishing a WIP”.......kinda sexy of me if you think about it...


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